Guns, Gifts and Secrets
by Texas Bluebonnet
Summary: Sarabeth MacAllister and the other dedicated nurses and doctors of the 4077th MASH have returned for more adventures and misadventures. Puns, like rabbits, are multiplying: y'all have been warned. Please read and review. Comments are always welcome.
1. Chapter 1

ONE

* * *

Author's notes: 

1. If this is your first introduction to Sarabeth MacAllister, "Guns, Gifts and Secrets" begins where "One Story from Korea" ends. You may want to read "One Story" to gain background information not covered in this tale. However, both stories can stand alone.

2. For everyone who sent me reviews on "One Story"--THANK Y'ALL! I enjoyed reading your comments and you have made me thinkof things in a different way. I hope y'all will enjoy this contribution, as well.

* * *

Oct. 29th, 1952: 0630 hours 

In a wooden building, in the war zone known as Korea, one man was sitting at his desk. That piece of furniture was located in the outer office of the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital unit known as the 4077th. The man, Corporal Max Klinger, was staring, unhappily, at the plywood walls that surrounded him.

He had delivered the bundles of letters and packages to the other members of the medical outfit and had lifted the morale of camp personnel considerably.

Unfortunately, for his own morale, he had opened his mail. First, he discovered he had missed his cousin's wedding; had missed all the food and the festivities; had missed being with his family. Second, he had received more details regarding the love of his life, other wise known as his no-good cheating wife, and her new "friend". That letter was now crumbled and thrown across the room.

It was probably a good thing Colonel Potter was in his office talking on the phone to someone. Otherwise, Klinger would have thrown something else; the typewriter, his footlocker, an operating table….

"Oh, Laverne. Why?" He asked the empty office. He didn't receive an answer.

With a sigh, the man walked over, picked up his letter, carefully refolded it and placed it on his cot. Maybe he would read the rest of it, later. And, then again, may be not.

Spying the shabby fedora that he had bought from a Korean peddler, the corporal set the hat at a rakish angle on his head and looked at his reflection in the small mirror by his bed. "You still got it, Max," he declared, hopefully.

Returning to his desk, he propped up his feet and, to keep himself entertained, he began to speak out loud, "The day was cold, wet and depressing. I was sitting in my office wondering how I was going to pay this month's rent. Unexpectedly, I heard foot steps approaching from the hall. Through the window in my door, I could see the profile of a woman."

"As she entered, my hopes of paying the rent increased. Just one look told me…this was no ordinary woman. She was a lady of quality and good breeding. She was wearing a black dress that clung to her every curve. A strand of perfectly-matched pearls hung around her neck. Her hair was blonde. And, through a hat with a half veil, her beautiful blue eyes looked at me in desperation."

A red-haired, green-eyed woman, wearing metal dog tags and olive-hued Army fatigues covered by a wet poncho, had entered the building. Looked down at her clothing, Lieutenant Sarabeth MacAllister grinned, "I hope I'm in the right office," she said with a Texas twang in her voice.

"You are," the man assured her. "I'm Private Detective Klinger. Sam Klinger. Come right in." Already feeling more cheerful, he helped his visitor out of her rain gear and pulled out a chair for her. "Tell me about your troubles, miss."

"Well, Mr. Klinger, this is a delicate matter," the woman answered with her soft drawl. "Father Mulcahy, our parish priest, recommended you. He said you could help me."

"Indeed, I can." The man with the impressive nose answered. He moved to his desk, took a seat and jauntily re-adjusted his hat. "What do you need? Someone located? Missing jewelry recovered?"

With a smile she replied, "I need some discrete information. I have this list of people and I need their home addresses...but I don't want to ask them for the information."

"So you want to keep them from getting suspicious."

"Right. And I also need someone to intercept the mail before these people see, and recognize, the handwriting on the letters, or packages, I'll be receiving."

"You're conducting your own surveillance?"

"Something like that. Can you help me?" she asked.

"I considered the lady's problem," the detective narrated his thoughts out loud. "A little voice was telling me there was more to this story than she was willing to tell me. But I couldn't resist the appeal in her baby blues. So I told her I would take the case...for a price. Intercepting mail...that was a federal offense. I could wind up in the slammer over this one."

"Oh, I'm willing to pay the price, Detective," she placed a package on his desk, "a dozen homemade cookies, now. And another dozen when the job is done."

"Could this mystery woman afford such a high price, I wondered? She must be very desperate. That fee is acceptable, I told her."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Klinger. I knew I could count on you."

"The lady smiled at me. Suddenly, we heard footsteps coming from my side door. The woman looked up in apprehension at the man who entered. Who was this tall, dark-haired man in the purple tuxedo?"

Doctor Hawkeye Pierce, with his treasured bathrobe wrapped around him, had a puzzled expression for the two people in the company clerk's office. "I think I must be in the wrong book," he decided and then added, "Sarabeth, I need to talk to you."

Instantly, Lieutenant MacAllister and Corporal Klinger dropped their pretense. "One of the patients, sir?" the nurse asked. She was ready to respond to any medical problem.

He shook his head, "I need a favor."

Detective Sam Klinger's narration was resumed, "There was something sinister about this man," he decided.

"There's nothing sinister about this man, Mr. Klinger," the lady spoke. "D_exter_, maybe; but not _sinister,_" she grinned. "This is Reginald Pierce, my brother, the dashing young surgeon. I told you not to follow me, Reggie."

"I have to keep you from wasting Father's money, dear sister," Hawkeye responded. He had decided to join in their play acting. "Come along, Regina. The limousine is here. And you know how cranky the chauffeur gets when he is kept waiting."

The woman smiled at the detective. "You will get right on that, won't you, Sam? I'm depending on you."

"Right away, ma'am," he assured his newest client.

* * *

Captain Pierce led Lieutenant MacAllister through the passageway. "Why do you encourage him?" he asked, "It only makes him worse."

Sarabeth laughed, "Major Winchester says the same thing about you."

"I'm different," the man replied. "I need the encouragement---particularly from a pretty woman."

"Speaking for all the women in this camp, you don't need any encouragement, at all! What's the favor, Hawkeye?" She added quickly, "And, I still refuse to be raffled off at your Halloween party!"

"It's not that. This is a real favor. But, I don't want anyone else to know about it."

"Come over to my office, then."

* * *

MacAllister unlocked the door to the medical storeroom. Since her position as nursing second-in-command had been approved, she had converted one small area of the room into her office. Turning on the lights, the woman from Texas invited him to sit down. "OK, Hawkeye. How can I help you?"

"I've been waiting to get you alone in a storeroom for a long time," the man from Maine informed her with obvious enjoyment.

"Did you notice that I left the door open for that very reason?" She grinned and sat down beside him.

"You're no fun," Pierce smiled at her. "Anyway, I want to do something really special for B J. So he won't miss Peg and Erin so much. And I need your ideas."

"You could ship him home in a duffel bag."

"If I thought that would work, I'd ship myself home in a duffel bag," he answered. "No, I need something really special."

"H-m-m." Seriously considering his problem, MacAllister suggested, "how about calling Peg and asking her to have someone make a home movie of the two of them doing ordinary things: giving Erin a bath, taking a walk around the neighborhood or things like that. And, later, on another reel, she could have them eating Thanksgiving dinner or opening Christmas presents."

"That's not bad." Hawkeye Pierce nodded. He suddenly shouted, "I've got it! You know what would be even better?" he asked. "Why not fly them here?"

"**HERE**!" Sarabeth was startled by his suggestion.

"Not here, exactly---Tokyo, rather," the man explained. "Wouldn't it be great if B J and I were on R&R and we walked into a hotel and saw them standing there in the lobby?" He rubbed his hands gleefully. "Oh, this will be good! What will we need? Let's see, we'll need plane reservations and…" Pierce looked at MacAllister who was staring at him in astonishment. "What are you waiting for? Start writing this down!"

The woman found her voice, "Hawkeye, you can't fly them to Tokyo! I doubt B J has enough extra money available to pay for the plane tickets, or the hotel rooms!"

"That's no problem," he replied, still excited about his plans. "We can use the money from the Halloween party to help pay for it. And every other event that we have, we can charge admission. We'll call it...The Tokyo Children's Fund."

The woman shook her head firmly. "No. You have already announced that all proceeds from the Halloween party would go to Sister Teresa's orphans. You can't take that money to use for something else."

"We'll make it up to them. Right now, this is more important." Captain Pierce replied.

Lieutenant MacAllister was unconvinced. She continued, "And, what about Peg? Do you know if she would even want to fly this far? To get on a plane---go halfway across the world---with a toddler to take care of? That's asking a lot."

"Of course, she would want to see B J! What is the matter with you?" The man was becoming agitated.

"And, what about B J?" she tried again, "There is an element of danger. You're the one who told me about Lieutenant Colonel Blake's plane being shot down over the Sea of Japan. If anything happened to either of them, it would _destroy_ B J."

"Look, I thought you would help me with this!" The doctor responded angrily. "But if you don't want to help, lieutenant; I'll find someone else!" He stormed towards the exit.

"Hawkeye, whoa up!" The woman called to him, "I didn't say I wouldn't help you. I just think…" The rattling of the shelves as the door slammed covered her words.

* * *

Captain Pierce's irritation at Lieutenant MacAllister continued through out the rest of the day. Later that morning, when she stopped by the Swamp, he ignored her attempts to talk to him. At the noon time meal, he moved to another table when she tried to sit down beside him. When she moved to that table, he shouted at her in annoyance and left the mess tent in a huff.

His actions had everyone staring at the Texan in amazement. Lieutenant Monica Parnelli was amused, however. "Trouble in Paradise?" she asked with a smirk.

"Nope," MacAllister replied with a frosty smile. "Everything's fine and dandy." She also left the mess tent; the door slamming behind her.


	2. 2

TWO

* * *

The news of their discord spread rapidly through the outfit. When asked what was going on, Lieutenant MacAllister would only say, with obvious resentment, "Someone's just being extremely hard-headed!"

Captain Pierce, on the other hand, ranted to everyone who would listen: "One favor. One little favor. And she won't even consider doing it!"

* * *

Hearing about the argument, Colonel Potter called Captain Hunnicutt away from his hospital duty. "Do you know what's going on?" he asked the other surgeon who had stepped outside the post-op ward at his senior officer's request.

B J Hunnicutt shook his head in bewilderment, "Sorry, Colonel. No idea."

"Do me a favor, son. You only have two patients in there and Margaret can take care of any problems that come up. Go talk to them. See if you can calm both of those hotheads down before we have the whole camp taking sides." Potter directed.

"I'll try, sir."

* * *

As the doctor entered the Swamp, Charles Winchester looked up at him in relief, "Hunnicutt, thank goodness you have arrived! I simply can not get him to listen to reason. Perhaps you will be able to communicate with him. I suggest you use a polo mallet!" Irritated, the older officer swept from the tent.

Grinning at the man's theatrics, B J spoke to Hawkeye who was sulking on his cot, "OK, Hawk, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Pierce replied. Without prompting, he continued, crossly, "You never really know someone until you ask a favor from them. And all it I wanted was one simple favor!"

"Must have been some favor," the Californian remarked. "The way I hear it, the two of you had a shouting match in the mess tent."

The other man protested, "It's just that---since she's never done anything for me---you'd think she'd do this one thing!"

Hunnicutt shook his head. "That's not true. Are you forgetting that she insisted Winchester use the proper suture techniques for that cut on your forehead? He was so furious at you for stealing one of his scarves; that he wanted to give you stitches more appropriate for Frankenstein's monster. And, what about the time…."

"OK. So maybe she has done some things for me. But still…."

Just then, B J Hunnicutt noticed a packet of letters and a wrapped tin of baked goods from home on his bed. "Hey!" he exclaimed in excitement. "I bet this is some of Peg's rum cake. She said she was sending me some."

Energized, in spite of himself, Hawkeye Pierce leapt from his own bed and sat beside his friend. "Dibs! Dibs!" he called.

"Sorry, Hawkeye," Hunnicutt tore away the wrappings, opened the tin and helped himself to a piece. "This is only for people who are speaking to Sarabeth. No, I mean it," he said as he pulled the delicious smelling cake away from the other man.

"Come on, Beej. Give me some!" Pierce pleaded as he tried several times to grab a piece. "Just a bite. Just a crumb! I'm starving here!"

Returning the lid to the can, Hunnicutt was emphatic. "No Peg's homemade rum cake for you until you make up with Sarabeth---today."

"All right! All right!" the dark-haired man agreed, "I'll talk to her."

"Right now." B J commanded. He was still holding the tin away from his roommate's grasping hands.

"Right now, I promise!" Pierce swore. "Cross my heart!"

Smiling, he offered the cake to Hawkeye who snatched a handful of crumbs eagerly. "Right now, Hawk!"

"OK. OK. I'm going." Putting on his jacket, Pierce helped himself to more cake. "Yum! You better save me some more of that!" he ordered as he exited the Swamp.

* * *

Standing outside Lieutenant MacAllister's tent, Captain Pierce studied her painted cattle brand for a moment. Now that he was here, he wasn't certain Peg's cake was worth this. Hesitantly, he knocked.

"Come on in, Captain," MacAllister called. She had seen him approaching through the door screen.

"Lieutenant. Sarabeth. May I come in?" the man questioned through the door. Opening the door a crack, he pushed a white handkerchief through the opening and waved it. "Truce?"

Grinning, in spite of herself, the Texan called, "Truce. Come on in, Hawkeye." As he entered, she gestured to a nearby chair. "Have a seat." She smiled as he glanced around for obvious weapons. "It's OK. I'm not mad enough to chunk rocks at you. Not yet," MacAllister added.

"Not yet." Pierce echoed. "That's comforting."

"Look, Hawkeye. Let's start over," Sarabeth suggested. "I'm willing to listen to

you---ifyou're willing to listen to me."

"Agreed. Maybe I did go a little overboard," the man admitted. "But this is important!"

"A little?" She muttered but then smiled, "Agreed." The young woman poured them both some coffee. "Here, have some _cow pies._" MacAllister pushed an opened can of cookies towards the man.

Pierce grinned, "The last time I called Dad; he talked about these. He'd love to try some."

"Sure. I reckon we can ship him a ton of _cow pies_ from the ranch." At his horrified expression, she asked innocently, "Or, did you mean the edible kind?"

"The edible kind---most definitely."

"I'll see what I can do." Smiling, she reached for a cookie. "OK, let's get down to business. If I'm going to help you, you have to promise not to take the food out of the mouths of orphans."

"You're right. That was a bad idea. I promise," Pierce conceded. "But you have to promise to not tell B J what we're planning."

"Hawk, he has to know what's going on," the woman protested.

"No, swear to me---you won't tell BJ," the man was persistent.

Exhaling slowly, the woman nodded in agreement. "I, Sarabeth MacAllister, swear, on my word as a Texan, that _I_ will not talk to B J Hunnicutt about this."

Missing the slight emphasis in her words, Hawkeye Pierce nodded in anticipation. "Let's get started."

"Let's see." She took a clean sheet of paper and began making a list. "We'll need plane tickets. And hotel reservations: Peg should probably come in a couple of days ahead of time; just to give her and Erin a chance to recover from the flight. And once B J arrives, they'll need a larger room."

"One with a king sized bed; and a bathtub; and room service," the man added.

"Right. And, and another room for the baby-sitter."

"A baby-sitter? Why?"

"Hawkeye," Sarabeth explained with an arched eyebrow, "never having been married, I may be making a wrong assumption. But, if you hadn't seen your wife in almost a year, what would be one of the first things you would want to do?"

Captain Pierce's smile of understanding was dazzling, "One baby-sitter; an unquestionable necessity."

"And we need someone to meet Peg at the airport. I wonder if both of them will need a passport."

"And what inoculations will they need."

The two of them worked for nearly an hour, making certain they had all the details covered. Sarabeth stood and stretched. "All right, you ask Colonel Potter for his permission. I'll ask Charles what hotel he'd recommend. And then we'll get Klinger to call Peg---to see if she would be willing to do this. But you're going to have a hard time keeping this from BJ," she warned.

"Not if we tell everyone to keep it a secret."

"He may overhear something or someone may let something slip. He might even be told, deliberately, just to spoil your fun."

"Who would do that?"

MacAllister raised her eyebrow at him again but said nothing.

"Yeah, you're right. I can think of someone who might do that. So, what are we going to be about it?"

"There's no 'we' in that one, Hawkeye. If you want to keep this a secret from B J, then you're the one who has to think up ways to keep him in the dark; besides stealing all the light bulbs."

"I think I can manage that. At least, we," Hawkeye stated with one of his impish grins, "can start figuring how to pay for this; besides stealing from Sister Teresa."

"Pay day's coming up. We can explain to everyone what we're planning. I'm sure most people will be willing to give something," she suggested. "And, like you said, at every other event that we have, we can ask for donations---for both causes. If we plan on this, say...maybe the week before Christmas, we should be able to raise enough money between now and then."

"Except that," Pierce frowned, "it shouldn't be the week before Christmas. That's one of our busiest times. Both sides try to get in all the licks they can before the Christmas truce."

"Terrific." The woman shook her head in dismay. "Why should that surprise me? OK. How about the second week in December?"

"Sounds good. Let's do it!"

* * *

Finished with his shift, stepping out of the post-op building, Captain Hunnicutt yawned. He tensed as a man moved towards him from the shadows.

"B J Hunnicutt?" the man asked. Relaxing when he heard Klinger's voice beneath the hat pulled down around his eyes, B J wondered what slightly-crazed diversion they were entering now.

The fedora-adorned gentleman gazed at the taller man in the lamp light and read from the small notebook he held in his hand. "Tall, sandy-haired, wearing a caterpillar. That's you, all right. My name is Sam Klinger: Detective Sam Klinger. And I have a lady who needs to speak to you, except she can't say anything to you. It's a secret. So I'll be her mouthpiece, see? Come with me."

"And where are we going?" The officer was amused at the 'tough' guy's antics.

"You'll see. Let's not keep the lady waiting."

"Lead the way, Detective," he hoped there would still be a piece of rum cake left when he returned.

* * *

"I don't know," Captain Hunnicutt admitted to the two people who were sitting with him at Rosie's bar. "I would love to see Peg; and Erin. I'll have to think about it, though." He was tearing his paper napkin into tiny shreds. "I certainly can't afford it."

"B J, if you want this to happen, we'll get the money somehow. That's a MacAllister promise," the Texan assured him. "But only if you agree to this. Despite what Hawkeye wants, you and Peg have to make that decision; it's not ours to make.

The doctor nodded in agreement. "Klinger, first chance you get, will you call Mill Valley? I need to talk to Peg about this."

"You got it, Captain."


	3. 3

* * *

Author's Notes: 1. Apolgies for the slight delay. I had to run from Hurricane Rita.

2. Thanks to Jenos Idanian & Poe1911 for your kind remarks. I hope you enjoy these chapters.

* * *

THREE

* * *

Oct. 30th: 1300 hours

"Ps-s-s-t." Loitering around the signpost, the detective had been waiting for one particular person to walk by. He gestured to the red-haired woman who waved at him and changed her course to speak to him.

"Did you spring a leak, Klinger?" Hawkeye, who was walking with Sarabeth, questioned with a grin. He was enjoying this continuous game with the inventive corporal.

The man in the fedora smiled and shrugged. He was on a clandestine assignment and couldn't be distracted. "Hey, lady," he whispered, "I've got those top secret files you requested."

"Great. Thank you, Sam." She accepted the folder handed to her. "Why don't you stop by the ranch house to pick up your payment in a few minutes?"

"Payment? Top secret? What's going on?" Pierce asked.

"Just never you mind, Reginald," MacAllister smirked. "You're not only who has secrets to keep, you know."

"You're not doing anything illegal, are you, Regina?" Hawkeye asked in fake concern. "Something an older brother would need to know about?"

"Nope. All I can say is, it's a hush-hush assignment that's been blessed by our parish priest," she offered as an explanation. "Thanks again, Detective." Sarabeth smiled at both men. "And, if y'all will excuse me, I have some research to conduct."

* * *

Inside her tent, Lieutenant MacAllister and Father Mulcahy were going over the lists that Corporal Klinger had provided. Frowning, the woman looked through her stack of papers again. "I don't see any information on Monica Parnelli. Do you have something, sir?"

The mansearched through his share of addresses, as well. "No, I don't either: most peculiar. I'm sure Klinger would include everyone."

"He would," MacAllister agreed. "I know she doesn't get much mail but she has to have someone back home." The woman frowned again, "Reckon I'll have to continue my own investigation."

* * *

"No, she's never mentioned anyone." Nurse Christy Baker shook her head when MacAllister asked about her tent mate. "Even when we've had our 'girl talks' she's never volunteered anything about her family."

"She likes to talk about her conquests, however," Sherry Riggs added. "Real and imagined."

"Boy, does she ever!" Baker agreed with a grin. Both women rolled their eyes at that shared memory. "Why, Sarabeth?"

The Texan shrugged, "Just curious. Thanks."


	4. 4

FOUR

* * *

Nov 1st: 0200 hours

_Hello, Mildred dear,_

_It's very early in the morning here and I just finished cleaning up after our last, of several, OR sessions._

_I'm afraid our much anticipated Halloween party didn't go as planned. First of all, due to transportation problems, the 8063rd had to cancel their trip over here to help us celebrate the day. And then, even though we tried to continue with our fundraising activities, a rowdy bunch of Marines moved into Rosie's bar outside of camp. Their drunken escapades kept us busy. It was mostly minor incidents—scrapes and bruises from fistfights. Major Winchester even had one patient who had a billiards ball stuck in his mouth. I'm still not certain how that happened. _

_But then, the real casualties started coming in. I lost track of the number of times one of us had to leave our operating table to perform triage outside. Also, most of us weren't even able to change out of our costumes. (Although, I did remove the chaps I was wearing. They chafed.)_

_It was funny, in a bizarre kind of way. Winchester had refused to dress up, of course. He __did not want to get into the _spirit_ of things, as our Texan explained with her usual grin. But, there was Pierce, wearing a homemade Superman suit complete with a red cape, diagnosing a shoulder fracture. Hunnicutt, dressed as clown, carrying a litter. MacAllister, wearing a man's suit and a fake handlebar mustache, adjusting an IV bottle. Houlihan wearing a Mandarin dress with a slit clear up to her… Anyway, we were busy for a long time._

_Even though we weren't able to participate in the activities we had planned, we did start telling spooky stories while we were working in the operating room. Pierce told an eerie one about a phantom boat that his uncle followed safely into port only to have it disappear into the fog. Baker told about someone she knew who had been awaken and led to safety from a house fire by a man who had died in a similar fire years before._

_I hope you don't mind, but I told them about the time your brother Calvin visited you right after his passing. I still get chills thinking about that. _

_While we weren't able to raise much money for the orphans, we did some good work and saved a lot of lives this night. I am proud of this bunch of _spook_-tacular people. _

_Sorry, dear one; Sarabeth's puns are rubbing off on everyone—including me._

_Speaking of raising money, Pierce has come up this rather hair-brain idea to fly Hunnicutt's wife and daughter to Tokyo for a visit. MacAllister tried to talk him out of it. Father Mulcahy tried to talk him out of it. I've tried to talk him out of it. _

_There's no reasoning with him, some times. Still, the idea does have its merits: especially since Sarabeth outlined some of their plans. I told them I would agree to give Hunnicutt a week's leave in Tokyo—provided they could raise the money. And, also, provided that B J has full knowledge and consent of their plans._

_Pierce insists this must be a surprise. I have told him that is simply not acceptable. I caught MacAllister's wink and I know she's up to something. We'll see. _

_Houlihan is leaving the day after tomorrow for the 8055th. This is on orders from Colonel Blankenship. (I told you about her inspection last month.) Margaret will spend 2-3 days at each unit explaining her staffing procedures. Despite her words to the contrary, I think she is secretly pleased at all of the recognition the colonel is giving her. And it is recognition well deserved. She does work very hard for the good of this outfit._

_Guess I'll stop now. I'm tired. And it will soon be daylight._

_All my love,_

_Sherm._


	5. 5

FIVE

* * *

Nov. 3rd: 0700 hours

"Are you an angel?" the young soldier asked. He was lying on his back in the hospital ward. Gazing down at him, with a smile on her lips, was a woman in a white lab coat.

"No, I'm a Texan. That's even better," she replied.

"What?" he blinked at her in confusion.

"Sorry. I reckon you're not ready for my jokes, yet."

"Very few people are," Major Winchester remarked.

Looking over her shoulder at the doctor who had entered the post-op ward, MacAllister grinned at him, "Howdy, sir."

"Lieutenant, I would like a word with you, when you are finished."

Still confused, the wounded man asked, as he tried to sit up, "Where am I?"

The nurse eased him back onto his cot. "You're not ready to be moving around, yet, either. Private, you are at the 4077th MASH hospital. We met in the operating room, remember?"

"I think so. I hope I didn't hurt your arm when I grabbed it. For a minute there, I guess I thought some Red Chinese had captured me."

"Well, I've been called Red before. But not because of my political beliefs," she answered with a laugh. "I have to go, now. I'd like to talk with you, again, when I get the chance."

"Sound good to me, Angel."

* * *

In the hallway, MacAllister appraisedWinchester's appearance. "Charles, you sure look good in your Class A's: complete with your scarf and cap: very dashing and debonair! You've had your dress uniform custom-fitted, haven't you?"

"Of course. If, as an officer, I must purchase and wear khaki pants with a dark brown jacket, I want them to fit properly. There's a Korean tailor who comes by here on occasion. I had him work on these."

"He did a good job."

"Yes," the major replied. "Thank you for retrieving my ascot, by the way. How did you manage to get it back?"

"Don't ask," she grinned and leaned against the wall. "So, you are really going to abandon all of us just to spend three days in Tokyo?"

"Without any hesitation," he responded. "In a few short hours, I shall be in civilization, once again! I'm going to have a room---all to myself---with a king sized bed---and actual sheets---and a bathtub---with fresh towels---at the finest hotel in Japan!"

Enthusiastically, Charles Winchester told her, "I'm going to the ballet! And to the Kabuki! I shall experience the joys of dining without metal trays. In short, my dear, I'm going for three days in Heaven! Ah, Tokyo: the Pearl of the Orient!"

"If you keep making it sound so enticing, you may find a stowaway in your suitcase," MacAllister teased. "Enjoy your time away from here, Charles."

"I shall. My only regret is that you won't be experiencing this paradise with me. You'd enjoy Tokyo, Sarabeth."

"Perhaps," she grimaced slightly and shrugged. "I haven't been here long enough to qualify for any length of time off, however."

"What you like for me to bring you from Tokyo?"

"You don't need to bring me anything."

"I'd like to, however," he persisted, "What would you like? Some perfume? A new book?"

"I'd like a pretty shell from the beach. But, I reckon it's too cold for that. How about a new hair ribbon? I'm allowed to wear them now---when I'm off duty."

"One seashell and one hair ribbon for Lieutenant MacAllister," the major promised.

She smiled at him and asked, "Are you going to be able to check on the hotel reservations for us?"

"I shall determine how much of a deposit is required for one room for two days and two rooms for five days." He patted his jacket pocket, "And, I have the number of the general's wife I'm to contact. Sarabeth, how would your brother know someone, in Tokyo, who might be willing to baby-sit?"

The woman shrugged, "I'm not sure. Crockett knows a lot of people. But, as far as I know, he's never needed a baby-sitter before." MacAllister laughed, "Maybe I should ask him about that."

"Perhaps you should," he returned her smile. Switching topics, he frowned, "Sarabeth, I've been thinking." At her grin, he nodded, "I know: a dangerous habit. Nonetheless, should we be making plans when Hunnicutt hasn't even completely agreed to this arrangement?"

"I told him---Klinger told him," she quickly corrected herself, "that, we would have to start now, to get everything organized. However, if, at any time, either he or Peg changed their mind, we would stop everything immediately---Hawkeye or not."

"That sounds reasonable. I do not believe Pierce will want to discontinue his '_Great_ _Deception_', however."

"If B J changes his mind, he'll have to." MacAllister continued thoughtfully, "I still have some doubts, too. There is that possibility of danger. And, I'm wondered if, after being with his family for five days, that wouldn't make the separation even harder on him, afterwards. But, as long as they are both willing.…" Off in the distance, the artillery could be heard. Sarabeth sighed, "Our noisy neighbors are awake again. You better go while you still have the chance."

"Have you heard if we are getting wounded in, soon?"

"I'm sure we will; haven't heard anything, yet. But you better go. You don't want to miss your connecting flight. Have a great time! When you return, I want to hear all about Tokyo---if you remember any of it."


	6. 6

SIX

* * *

Nov. 6th: 1530 hours

_Dear Sis,_

_Today has been one of the most terrifying days of my life! In my letter that I wrote to you a couple of days ago, I described the artillery attacks that have been occurring regularly at the front only two or three miles from here. Today---instead of merely hearing the shelling and seeing the results when the ambulances pull in---we experienced this horror for ourselves._

_It started at lunch. I was in the serving line behind Sarabeth MacAllister and Lieutenant Cochlan (the Australian soldier I wrote to you about, earlier.) He was visiting her for the day. They were standing there, with much jocularity, laughing and teasing each other._

_Sarabeth had just poured herself some coffee, when, suddenly, she tilted her head as if she were listening intensely to something. And, then, she gasped and dropped her mug. I've heard of people turning white as a sheet. But this was the first time I actually witnessed it. Her face was so pale, you couldn't see her freckles. She wasn't even aware of the hot liquid that had splattered on her legs._

"_**INCOMING**!" she shouted. "Y'all get out of here! NOW!" Her words were as sharp as a crack from a whip._

_Colonel Potter didn't hesitate. "**OUT**! People, move it! Clear out! **NOW**!" He ordered. Trays were dropped and benches overturned as everyone ran frantically to escape._

_I saw Cochlan grab Sarabeth and the two of them dove through the tent screen into the mud. Other people who couldn't reach the exits in time followed their example._

_We had barely gotten out of the mess tent when we heard the howl of a descending mortar shell. In less than a heartbeat, we were enveloped in that explosion._

_The sound was unbelievable! A thousand firecrackers, all exploding at the same time, in a metal building, couldn't even begin to describe that loudness. I could barely hear the screams of the people over the ringing in my ears._

_Debris began falling all around us. Chunks of metal, splinters of wood and burning canvas started raining down. The rest of the time is rather blurred: roaring explosions...shaking ground...blinding lights...air being sucked out of lungs...pressure pounding against eardrums...metal pieces ripping through buildings and through flesh...the frightened looks in everyone's faces...screams of pain and cries of fear..._

_Words truly can not describe it accurately. _

_During that constant bombardment, Colonel Potter and Corporal Klinger were trying to contact HQ to get them to stop the shelling. Or, as Hawkeye Pierce said, as he grabbed the phone, at one point,and shouted into it, "We surrender, already!"_

_I tried to give everyone spiritual guidance and comfort. Usually, I feel so useless here: but not this time. Everyone was looking to me for courage and strength. I hope I was able to give them some. _

_Mercifully, the attack lasted less than an hour. It seemed MUCH longer, however. _

_There were few serious injuries here. And, we were even more blessed by having no outside casualties, either. _

_I have already thanked the Lord several times for our deliverance. And, I have said a special prayer for the continued safety for each and every member of this MASH unit, tonight. _

_Because these people are so dear to me, I have asked Max Klinger and Sarabeth MacAllister to help me with a special project. I hope everyone will like their Christmas surprises._

_Remember us in your prayers. Here, in this dreadful place, we need all the spiritual intervention we can get._

_I have to go. Colonel Potter has just called a meeting for the entire outfit. I hope my next letter will be more cheerful. _

_Take care---my sister, the Sister. Love---from your brother, the Father. Those two lines always make me smile. So I just read them again. We all need an extra smile tonight._

_Yours in Christ,_

_Francis John Patrick

* * *

_

Nov. 6th: 1530 hours

Limping slightly, the commander of the 4077th had surveyed the damage done to his

medical unit. The whole camp smelled scorched.All the tents had been flattened by the

concussions. The mess tent was gone. The generator shed had been destroyed; although

the back-up generator was still working. The hospital windows were gone. His office

was missing part of its roof.

And, Sophie, his wonderful mare, was missing, as well. Looking at the enormous hole

in the middle of the corral, he was thankful MacAllister and Cochlan had managed to

open the gate and send the horse, bolting in terror, to the relative protection of the

surrounding countryside. I hope you are safe, dear girl," he whispered.

This was his third war. He was tired of the destruction; tired of the death; tired to

death. Resolutely, he straightened his shoulders before entering the post-op building. He

knew he would be facing the group of forlorn, frightened people for whom he was

responsible. He couldn't---he wouldn't---let them down.

* * *

Stepping through the doors, he was greeted by the sound of laughter. A bit forced, a bit

weary, but laughter, all the same. The tall Texan, assigned to his outfit, was obviously

concluding some tall tale.

She heard him enter the room and, balancing on her crutches, turned to greet him. "And,

now, let's give a warm welcome for Colonel Potter!" MacAllister led the applause

before returning to her seat next to the Australian soldier.

"Come on in, Colonel." Hawkeye Pierce called to him. "Grab a cot and get comfy."

The post op room was crowded with all of the medical and enlisted personnel. And the

few chairs were already taken. Those beds not occupied by patients were being used as

couches by the rest.

"Thanks. I'll stand."

The senior officer studied the wounded first. Major Winchester had returned from Tokyo

in time to catch a piece of shrapnel above his left knee. He was still sleeping off the

anesthesia. Despite having his arm around Nurse Thompson, Captain Pierce was sitting

near his patient, monitoring his condition. Lieutenant Kellye was wincing as Doctor

Hunnicutt examined the bandage to her head. Private Starr waved his broken arm at his

commander, cheerfully. Sergeant Rizzo's growling Cajun accent was heard from his bed,

"What's the word, Colonel? Are we bugging out?"

"No need. We're staying put, Sergeant." he replied. He looked at the rest of his crew.

Almost everyone had some kind of scrape or scratch from the attack. He searched their

eyes. They were filled with fear, with pain, with exhaustion. But they were not defeated.

He had a good bunch of people. "All right: let's start rebuilding the 4077th. The first

order of business is to set up those tents again…."

* * *

Captain Hunnicutt walked over to Lieutenant MacAllister's tent. Hearing the friendly

chatter coming from inside her quarters, he grinned. Friends and family; when it came

down to it; that was all that really mattered.

"Howdy, B J," the woman greeted her visitor as he knocked at her door. "Come on in,"

she gestured to the man who hurried inside the warm tent. "Have a chair."

"Aren't you the one supposed to be in a chair?" The doctor asked and smiled at the

women who were with her. "I do remember giving some instructions regarding that."

"That's why we're here, B J." Liza Campbell announced with a grin. She and

fellow nurse, Linda Hernandez, had stopped by to help MacAllister with her own

salvage attempts. "We know she doesn't always follow 'doctor's orders' so we showed

up at her doorstep to do all the lifting and shifting."

"And I appreciate it," the Texan grinned. "The ranch house was definitely in need of a

good spring cleaning."

"If you two ladies are through with your house keeping, I'd like to talk to

Sarabeth for a minute…."

* * *

Nov 6th: 2200 hours

Sitting in his cot, B J Hunnicutt put the finishing touches to the long letter he had been writing:

_I don't think I have ever been that scared, my darling. And, it made me realize how quickly everything can change. No matter how carefully you plan, you can lose friends and family in a heartbeat. I don't want to lose you, Peg. Not now: not ever. I also don't want to miss any opportunity to be with you. I would like for you, and Erin, to come to Tokyo. _

_I know I'm asking a lot. That's a long flight and there is some danger. I think it's worth it---but only if you are in complete agreement. We have always made the major decisions together. So think about it some more and let me know._

_Sarabeth has assured me that we do not need to worry about expenses or arrangements. She says the hardest thing on my end will be convincing Hawkeye that I don't know_ _what is going on—because he thinks he can keep this a secret from me._ _I'm going to have to think of a good practical joke to pay him back for putting me through this._

_All my love, Peg. Hug and kiss Erin for me. Call me soon. _

_B J_


	7. 7

SEVEN

* * *

Nov. 7th: 0630 hours

Lieutenants Cochlan and MacAllister were walking slowly towards the jeep waiting to take the soldier back to his outfit. It's starting to look like an Army base again," the woman noted, "rather than a 'used tent' sale."

"Be it ever so humble," the man quipped. He smiled at the young woman who was struggling with her crutches in the mud. "True be told, I'd rather be walking the boards, along Sydney's harbor, right about now."

"Me, too. And I've never been there. Anything would be better than this gumbo." MacAllister replied with a grin. She checked her watch. "I've got rounds in a few minutes. Thank you, Mitch, for all your help."

"Glad I was here to help." Cochlan reached for a tendril of the red hair that so fascinated him. He played with the strand for a few seconds before leaning towards the woman, intent on kissing her. She smiled up at him in shy invitation.

They were interrupted by a shocked, "Well, I never!" Pulling away from each other, guiltily, the two looked over to see Lieutenant Parnelli staring at them. Instead of giving them some privacy, the woman continued to glare at them.

"Bloody.…!" The man swallowed his expletive. "Next time, Sarabeth, we are going to spend some time alone!" He growled.

"Oh, we are, are we?" She challenged with an arch of an eyebrow.

He glanced at her face. Her slight smile encouraged him. "Too right, we are."

"I don't know, Outback," she added with a grin, "Every time we get together, someone starts shooting at us; first it was bullets and now, artillery shells. Next, they'll probably be lobbing _elephants_ at us."

"No worries, Texas. We'll just toss Jumbo some peanuts and go on picnic." The man answered with a grin of his own before becoming more serious, "Keep dodging bullets, Sarabeth." Cochlan instructed as he climbed in to the jeep. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"You keep dodging those bullets, too, Mitch." The woman told him with all earnestness. "And hurry back."

"You can count on that."

MacAllister waved to the soldier as his transport sped away. "Ausies!" she snorted affectionately and hobbled towards the post-op ward. She completely ignored the other nurse standing nearby.

* * *

Nov. 7th: 0800 hours

"You know," Major Winchester commented with his familiar New England accent, "you really do really look like an angel from this angle." He observed as he looked up at the nurse who was sitting beside his hospital bed.

"And you are still groggy from the sedatives." MacAllister replied with a grin. "Since we're waiting for Goldman to bring you a breakfast tray, and, since you are a captive audience..." Winchester groaned as he caught her impish grin. "What kind of shoes does a cowboy buy?"

"I'm not strong enough this," the man protested.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Sure you are."

He sighed in resignation, "Very well. What type of shoes does a cowboy buy?"

"_Saddle shoes_, of course."

Winchester rolled his eyes in response.

"What kind of shoes does a lazy baker wear?" Sarabeth asked before he had a chance to recover.

"Haven't I been_ pun_-ished, enough?"

With a laugh, she shook her head, "Don't be a_ heel._ I've only just be-_tongue." _

"Have a care, woman. I know how to _remove_ that tongue," the surgeon warned. There was no menace behind his words, however.

"Lazy bakers wear _loaf-_ers," she responded. "What kind..."

"Enough," his tone was long-suffering. "I yield."

"Oh, all right. I'll let you off the hook; but only because I hear Major Houlihan in Klinger's office. And," she listened carefully to the helicopter that was approaching, "Crockett's here, too."

"I am thankful for any reprieve," the man responded with a smile, "even if it does arrive wearing _combat boots_."

"Ah, come on Major; as Father Mulcahy says: jocularity is good for the _sole_." The Texan couldn't resist one last shot. "Campbell, take over." MacAllister turned her patient care duty over to the other nurse. "I suspect Major Houlihan is going to want a full report. And so will Crockett."

* * *

"Howdy, Major Houlihan," standing outside Potter's office, Lieutenant MacAllister greeted the head nurse of the 4077th. "Welcome back." She smiled at her commanding officer and older brother, as well, "Howdy, Colonels."

The older woman nodded her greeting. "I would have been back sooner but I had to wait for the roads to be cleared. Colonel Potter tells me we've had some injuries here."

"Yes ma'am. The most severe: Major Winchester--with shrapnel above the left knee, Sergeant Rizzo--with burns to the right shoulder, Private Starr--with a fractured right radius. And," she hesitated and glanced at her sibling before continuing, "Lieutenant Kellye--with a concussion and sutures."

"Kellye?" Colonel MacAllister asked in sudden concern, "She's hurt?"

"She's going to be OK." Sarabeth hurriedly assured him. "She's still got a horrible headache and some bruising. But she is going to be all right, brother mine." She noticed some of the tension leaving his shoulders at her confidence.

"I have to talk to Colonel Potter, now," MacAllister directed. "After that, I want to talk to you---and Kellye."

""We're not going anywhere," the woman replied with an affectionate smile for her brother. She turned to the other nurse, "Major, I have the surgery reports ready, if you would like to review them."

"Yes, I want to see them. Please excuse us, Colonels," the head nurse spoke. The women headed towards the post-op area. "I notice you're back on crutches again…."

* * *

"Lordy, Sarabeth! I have been so worried about you!" Crockett MacAllister declared. He was holding his sister in a tight embrace. The two were in the nurse's office in the medical storeroom. The door was closed to keep their conversations private.

"I am so glad to see you, big brother!" She answered, holding him onto him tightly, as well. "That was awful!" She wiped away her tears. "Don't tell Fannin I was crying. I hate it when he calls me a cry baby."

"He better not." Her brother threatened. He started pacing in the small area. "Dammit, little sister! It was bad enough to find out that any of the MASH hospitals were selected as the target. And then to find out it was yours." He turned to her, exhaustion and worry etched in his normally good-natured features, "I don't reckon you'd accept a transfer."

"Nope," the younger MacAllister shook her head."What do you mean a hospital was 'selected as the target'? By whom?"

The colonel took a long, deep breath, "I'm more tired and rattled than I thought. You should never have heard that."

Making a zipping motion across her mouth, the woman said, "For now and for always, Crockett. You know that."

"Yes, I do know that, little sister." The man searched her face carefully before continuing, "That shelling was from a Chinese outfit that had gotten through the lines. They had planned to hit you with artillery for about an hour, or until they ran out of ammo—to 'soften' you up. And then send a patrol in to…" He stopped abruptly.

The anger that he was keeping tightly controlled was trying to spill over, again. He started pacing in the small room. "A squad caught them before they could carry out their plans. They claim they didn't know their target was a hospital. They're saying it was a mistake. Most of the people at HQ believe them."

"But you don't."

"I'd like to believe that it wasn't deliberate. However, there are some rumors, backed by some very good intelligence, that a new player is waiting to get into the game. This sounds more like his vicious style of warfare. So, I'm wondering…" The older MacAllister shrugged and added, "Anyway, I'm sorry I couldn't get here any sooner to check on y'all but…"

"You were busy," his sister finished for him. And that explained his tiredness. He and Fannin had probably patrolled outside the perimeter of their camp all night long—just to make certain they were safe. She hugged her oldest sibling again. "I love you!"

"Now, big brother, listen to me," the younger Texan directed. She placed a hand on his arm to stop his relentless movement. "I know you promised Mama that you would look after me; but, I release you from that promise."

"Sister mine, you can't do that."

"Yes, I can, brother mine. That's one MacAllister promise that you don't have to keep. I'm here because I choose to be. It's my decision and my responsibility. Whatever happens, if anything ever happens, it's my decision. You did your best to make me change my mind. So now, it's on my shoulders. Not yours. You hear me?"

He didn't reply.

"Crockett Allen MacAllister, you'd best listen to me!" Sarabeth insisted and lifted an eyebrow at him in warning. "You hear me?"

He arched an eyebrow back at her in reply.

"You want to arm wrestle for it?"

At these words, her brother grinned, "You'd lose. And then I'd have to explain to Mama how I broke your arm." He nodded in reluctant agreement. "I hear you, Sarabeth. But that doesn't mean I'm going to break that promise, either."

"I don't really expect you to. Just," she gazed at him in loving concern, "try not to worry about me so much, OK?"

"I can try to do that," the Texan replied. He gave his sister another hug. "Reckon I'll go see Kellye, now."

"Yes, go see Kellye," Sarabeth instructed. "We moved her cot over to my tent to give her a chance to rest. Go talk to her, hold her hand, make her laugh and let her make you laugh, too. Get some sleep, if you can." With a mischievous smile, she added, "Watch out for Ernie."

"Ernie?" MacAllister asked, "That little brown and white dog you adopted?"

"Or he adopted me. I'm not sure which." She grinned, "Since the rains started, he has moved in my tent. He makes all the rounds to get scraps and then come back to the ranch house to spend the night."

"So, he's become a _pooch mooch_?" The older MacAllister also grinned.

"He has. He also doesn't take too kindly to being disturbed from one of his naps.

Therefore, I'm fixing to let you two males snarl at each other to decide who is _top dog. _I'm betting on Ernie, by the way."

Crockett asked, "And why is that?" Some of his weariness was slipping away as he responded to his sister's teasing.

"Because, big brother, as far as I know, you don't lift your leg and pee on someone's pants leg when you're riled." Sarabeth smirked. "He's won two arguments that way, already."

"With whom?" He asked with amusement returning to his voice.

"Parnelli. Both times."

The Texan roared with laughter. "I like that dog more and more." He tenderly kissed her forehead. "Don't worry; little sister. I reckon there won't be a _bone_ of contention between the two of us. I'm going to see Kellye." As he headed out the door, he turned, "Fannin's sleeping out in his chopper, if you want to see him. But he's been acting meaner than a rattle snake with a tooth ache. So approach him carefully."

* * *

Lieutenant MacAllister hobbled into Corporal Klinger's office. "Howdy, Detective," she called to the man, "Do you reckon you have time to perform another job for me?"

"For you, lady," the man reached for his special brown hat, "Detective Sam Klinger, is always at your service."

"Thanks." She smiled but added seriously, "This may go under the heading of hazardous duty, however."

"I understand," the man replied. "Do you need some one bumped off?"

"No, just given a wake up call. My brother, Fannin, is asleep in that helicopter up there and I can't get up the hill on crutches. Would you get on the radio and tell him his little sister wants to see him and he had best get down here to talk to me."

"That's all? That doesn't sound dangerous to me."

"You don't know that particular brother of mine," she warned. "If he gets to cussing you too much, tell him, I said, '_pretty please'_."

* * *

Soon afterwards, inside the helicopter, two men prepared to take off. "Did she try to release you from your promise, too?" One brother asked with his slow drawl.

"Yep," was the laconic reply from the other brother.

"And, are you going to forget that promise?"

"Nope. Are you?"

"Nope."

The Texas brothers grinned at each other.

"We're burning daylight. Let's go."


	8. 8

EIGHT

* * *

Nov. 11th: 1900 hours

The new mess tent was crowded. On either side of the heaters, MASH personnel and the men from the Army Corps of Engineers were taking their seats. Major Winchester had already secured a bench. He motioned to Lieutenant MacAllister as she entered. She accepted the cup of hot chocolate he offered and sat beside him, "Good seats, Charles."

"Winchesters always have front row boxes," he informed her. She caught his amusement and smiled. Hawkeye Pierce still insisted that he had no sense of humor.

Colonel Potter stood to address the company, "Welcome to the 4077th MASH version of the 'Fireside Chat'. Before we begin tonight's activity, a word of thanks to Colonel Hodges and his men who have worked so hard rebuilding this camp." He waited for the applause to die down before he continued, "Some of us are especially grateful for the new officers' latrine." He grinned as the people laughed. "Now, our purpose here tonight is to have a good time and to keep warm."

"That's why all the nurses have to sit around me," Hawkeye Pierce interrupted.

The colonel ignored him, "Lieutenant MacAllister is our hostess tonight. Lieutenant..." He motioned for her to step forward.

Sarabeth stood and nodded at the polite applause. She ignored the more raucous suggestions. "This is intended to be a friendly story telling session. Your story doesn't have to be very long. It doesn't even have to be very true. It does, however, have to follow the topic...sort of. Everyone is expected to treat the story teller with courtesy. And, no interruptions!" At this, she looked directly at Captain Pierce.

"Who me?" he asked innocently.

MacAllister grinned at him before resuming her presenter duties, "I would also like to remind y'all that the price of admission for tonight's event is going towards two good causes: Sister Teresa's orphanage and the Tokyo Children's Fund." Pierce caught her attention and winked at her. Beside him, without Hawkeye noticing, B J Hunnicutt winked at her, as well. "All purchases of hot cocoa, cookies and sandwiches are also going towards these funds---so y'all drink and eat up! See Father Mulcahy. He's used to handling the collection plate."

"And don't forget, we're having a dance here on the 15th," the resident from Maine announced, "You can buy your tickets for it tonight, as well."

"And now, without any further interruptions.…" The Texan glared at the dark haired man who grinned at her in return, "we'll begin. Now then: tonight's topic is...fear." People stirred uncomfortably and she hurried to reassure them, "I'm not talking about the fear we experience around here every day. The Lord knows there's too much of that kind already."

"I'm talking about the kind of fright that y'all had as kids---an experience that frightened the beejeebers out of you as a child---but one that you can laugh at as an adult."

"As y'all know," MacAllister explained with her soft Texas drawl, "everyone has agreed to tell a story if their name is drawn. Your names are in this special selection box." She held up the clean bedpan to the cheers of the crowd. "Father Mulcahy will pick the first liar---er---volunteer. I assume y'all trust the good padre?"

"I don't know," Corporal Klinger quipped. "I've watched him play poker!" He dodged the popcorn thrown at him.

"If you'll do the honors, sir," MacAllister directed as she held the container.

The priest pulled a name from the bedpan. "The first storyteller for the evening is...oh, my. Lieutenant MacAllister. How about that!"

Sarabeth returned to the center stage. Catcalls and wolf whistles sounded. "Gee, this is a tough audience." She thought for a moment, "Something that scared me as a kid and that I can laugh at now. OK. I've got one. This tale is true, by the way."

Her expressive face was even more animated than usual and her accent intensified as she set the scene for her story. "We're on my daddy's ranch...the Rocking Double A...in Big Oak, Texas. It's the first week of January. I'm seven---almost eight years old. We're in the middle of a very rough winter. We had already had weeks of ice and sleet. The temperature had lingered close to freezing for days. The wind never seemed to quit blowing."

"We had just brought Travis, my brother closest to me in age, home from the hospital. He was so very sick. Actually, they thought we were bringing him home to die. I _knew_ better...but no one asked me. Anyway, Travis wanted some milk. The trouble was; we had already drunk all of the milk that morning."

"My daddy and my other brothers were out taking care of the cattle: hauling hay out to the pastures and breaking the ice on the water troughs. We had to keep those cattle alive because they were our livelihood. My mama couldn't leave Travis alone. So she asked me to go out to the dairy barn to get some more milk."

Sarabeth paused long enough to sip some of her hot drink. She gave her mug to Major Winchester. She needed her hands free to emphasize her story. Her hair, tied with a new, bright blue ribbon, swished from side to side as she talked.

"You walked into our dairy barn through a narrow doorway to the stalls. There were three stalls on each side with a dog run between them. Beyond the stalls, separated by a half-wall, there was an area where we stored the hay for these cows. Since it was so cold, we had moved the chickens into that section of the barn to keep them from freezing. The cats were in there, too. They liked the warmth."

"Being winter, we only had three cows in there. Two of them were gentle. They didn't care what you did to them or how often you milked them. But the third one, Rose, had a mean streak. She had one crooked horn that curved over her eyes. And the other one pointed out to the side."

"That cow hated me. I wasn't too fond of her, either. She was always trying to butt me with her head. Or step on my toes. We kept her tied most of the time, just to make it easier for me to milk."

"I kept asking my daddy to get rid of her but she was a good suckler. We could put two or three calves on her and she'd produce enough milk for all of them."

"Anyway, I had removed my coat and had milked the cows. I set my bucket down in the run and walked past Rose to see if there were any eggs. She didn't try to kick me--which was unusual for her--so I reckon I should have been suspicious. There were a couple of eggs so I tucked them into my shirt and started back."

"Just as I walked by her, Rose lashed out with a hind foot, hit me right above the knee and knocked me to the ground! Somehow, she had pulled her tie loose. While I was down, she started hooking me! And stomping me!"

"At the same time, she's bellowing and snorting. I'm screaming and crying. The chickens are squawking. The cats are squalling. And the other cows are becoming upset."

MacAllister changed the tone of her narration momentarily, "Now, y'all may not realize that, cattle, when they become upset, start urinating and defecating in copious amounts. These cows were very upset." She grinned at their expressions and returned to her story.

"So here I am---on the floor---crawling, back and forth, between the legs of the other animals---through the muck---with more coming down all the time---trying frantically to get away from this beast! And she's still trying her best to kill me!"

"There was a small workbench next to the hay store room. I dove under it. Rose couldn't reach me. But I couldn't get out. The wall behind me was solid stone."

"I was scared."

"I was hurt."

"And I didn't know what else to do."

The story teller paused again. She had the ability to draw her listeners into her drama. Each of them was a frightened child, alone in a barn, facing danger.

"Then, I started getting mad. Here I was, a sixth generation Texan...a rancher's daughter...and I was being stomped to death by the family milk cow."

"And, I started thinking about Travis. I'd do _anything_ in the world for any of my brothers. And all Travis wanted was a glass of milk. But I couldn't give him one because the bucket had been overturned during the ruckus."

"There was a stick of wood nearby. It was a broken handle to an ax or a shovel or something. Someone had placed it in the corner and had forgotten about it. I grabbed it. And the next time Rose tried to push her head under that bench, I swung that stick as hard as I could!"

"That cow stopped in mid-bellow." Sarabeth grinned in remembered satisfaction. "Rose looked at me in surprise as I came out from under that bench and laid into her with a vengeance!"

"I hit her...and I hit her...and I hit her...and I hit her."

"I smacked her across the nose, on the ear, on the flank, in the ribs---wherever I could find a target. I just kept swinging that stick and crying and cussing that cow!"

"Finally, she gave up and ran back to her stall. Still carrying my stick, I ran after her. And we're standing there---with our sides heaving---staring at each other."

"I'm all cut up. My side hurts. My knee hurts. I have a couple of smashed fingers. Blood is running down from my busted lip and from a gash on my shoulder. Egg yolk is dripping from beneath my shirt. Rose has blood pouring out her nose."

"And then, she turns and starts eating hay; totally unconcerned. Just like nothing had ever happened."

MacAllister looked at her audience and smiled. Her green eyes were glistening with mischief. "We ate that cow two days later. She tasted real good. My daddy said it was because of all the extra_ tenderizing _I gave her."

Applause and laughter filled the tent.

"Wait. There's more!" She held up her hand for silence. "There's a moral to this story."

"I know what it is: if someone backs you into a corner and makes you mad enough; you'll beat the hell out of him," Hawkeye contributed.

She laughed. "That's true," she conceded. "But that's not it. The moral is...even if a cow runs a-_muck_, her _tail_ can still be _udder_-ly a-_moo_-zing"

She was met with a stunned silence. Her story had been so serious---and she had delivered her last line with such a straight face---that it took a few moments for everyone to catch her puns. Then, pandemonium broke out.

Popcorn and caps and scarves and mittens were thrown at her. Moans and great whoops of laughter swelled in volume. Captain Pierce fell off his chair. He rolled around on the floor and laughed in delight. That caused even more howls. Everyone was holding their sides and wiping their eyes. And MacAllister was laughing as hard as anyone in the room.

As they struggled to catch their breath, B J quipped, "Thanks, Sarabeth. That was a _moo_-ving experience."

The laughter erupted again.

Standing slowly and stiffly, Major Winchester led the ovation, "Excellent, my dear. A master storyteller isn't she?" he asked the crowd. Their approval was loud and long. Sarabeth curtsied. The major walked her back to her seat.

"More! More!" Major Houlihan urged, "Pick someone else, Father!"

Others took up the chant.

"Wait," MacAllister called, "Um...I have a small confession to make."

"Are you listening, Father?" Hawkeye asked.

"Always, my son," the clergy man replied with a kind-hearted smile.

"I wasn't sure if anyone would really want their names drawn that first time." Sarabeth hesitated, "So---the only name in there is mine." She shrugged apologetically.

"It doesn't matter," Hawkeye informed her. He swept the hair from his eyes as the attention was centered on him. "I'll go next. Here's my story: it's spring and we're back in Crab Apple Cove..."


	9. 9

NINE

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has provided feedback; especially Firebirdgirl for the cheering section. : >) I hope y'all enjoy these chapters. Comments are always welcome.

* * *

After midnight, the 'Fireside Chat' finally came to an end. As host, Colonel Potter stood by the doorway as people were leaving. He nodded in satisfaction at the smiling faces and snippets of friendly conversations that filled the area. "…Klinger, were you really hanging from that fire escape by one hand?" "…I can't believe anyone would go into a pond full of alligators!" "…That was funniest thing I've ever heard!"

"Thank you, again, Colonel, for making this place livable," the commanding officer said as he shook the hand of the Corp of Engineers officer who had rebuilt his camp.

"We're always happy to build something," Colonel Hodges replied with an affable grin. "This was fun. Thank you for providing us with some entertainment," he glanced at Margaret Houlihan who was standing beside him, "and, for allowing some of your prettiest nurses to associate with us."

* * *

Due to his injury, Major Winchester waited until most of the people had left before heading toward the exit. Matching his pace, Lieutenant MacAllister stayed beside him, chatting amicably. She smiled at her commanding officer. "Good night, sir. And, thank you for letting us use this event as a fund raiser."

"This was a good idea, Lieutenant," Potter spoke to the nurse who had suggested the event, "and it came at the right time."

MacAllister smiled, "Thank you, sir. Do you reckon we can have another one---soon?"she asked impishly.

"Are you looking for more _moo_-la?" The senior officer chuckled as she laughed at his joke.

"We could use a _cash cow_, sir." Sarabeth responded with a grin of her own.

Captain Pierce, who had overheard their conversation, stopped at the table where Father Mulcahy was sitting with the metal cash box in his hands. "Speaking of money, how much did we make?" the doctor asked.

"I haven't counted it yet, Hawkeye. I'll let you know later," Mulcahy replied.

"But I need to know, now," the man insisted.

"Hey, Hawk," Captain Hunnicutt sauntered over to his tent mate and asked, "What kind of charity is 'The Tokyo Children's Fund? I've never heard of it."

"It's, um-m-m," the dark haired surgeon struggled to find an answer, "it's a great charity; for a really good cause."

"I'm sure." B J Hunnicutt asked innocently, "What's it for, exactly?"

Lieutenant Parnelli chose that moment to intervene, "Don't you know, Captain? It's for.…"

Not giving her a chance to finish, Hawkeye Pierce suddenly swept the woman into his arms. "Shall we dance? I need some practice." He pulled the startled nurse through several dance steps, all the while, motioning, with his hand behind her back, for the others to leave the area.

"Pierce!" Colonel Potter exclaimed, "What in the name of Molly's sweet corn are you doing?"

Lieutenant MacAllister, who was struggling to keep a straight face, replied, "I reckon he's trying not _to let the cat out of the bag_, sir."

"That would be _cat_-astrophic, wouldn't it?" Father Mulcahy answered with a grin.

"Come on, B J," taking pity on Captain Pierce, the Texan reached for the arm of the man from California, "let's head for the Swamp." She, Major Winchester, and Captain Hunnicutt left the dancers behind.

"I got to admit it, Hawk, when it comes to dancing," Hunnicutt called to the doctor who was still waltzing with his astonished partner, "you're the _cat's meow_."

* * *

Outside, Sarabeth remarked, "So, that's how you intend to get back at him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," B J answered with an inscrutable expression.

"Pure Machiavellian genius," Winchester commented, "I love it."

The other man shrugged self-effacingly and then grinned mischievously, "Hawkeye may regret his insistence on secrecy. Good night, you two," he called as he entered the physicians' quarters.

MacAllister shook her head in amusement, "Beneath that mild mannered man with the mustache lurks someone with a wicked sense of humor." Turning, she deliberately looked up at the signpost nearby. The TEXAS sign was at the top of the pole, again. BOSTON had been moved to the second position, once again.

Following her gaze, the major was surprised. "That was not the order of those signs

before we went into the mess tent. You were within my sight the whole time. How did you…?"

The woman merely smirked, enigmatically, in reply. And then, frowning in concern as he leaned heavily on his cane, she said, "Charles, why don't you just head inside?

I really don't need an escort to the ranch house."

"I'll see you to your tent," Winchester insisted. At a misstep, he hissed in pain. "I'm having trouble walking with a cane and you were moving all over this camp on crutches. Sarabeth, you made it look too easy."

"I've had lots of practice walking with crutches. And you have to walk in the mud: that's even harder."

"It is, indeed."

* * *

Colonel Hodges, who had spent most of his spare time with Major Houlihan, was walking the senior nurse to her quarters. "Are you certain you don't want to have a nightcap over at Rosie's, Margaret?" he asked. "She assured me, it would always be open for me; seeing how we restored her saloon."

The woman shook her head, reluctantly. "I'd like to; but it will have to be some other time, Glenn. I have to leave early this morning for the 8055th—to lead a training session for two or three days."

"The 8055th? H-m-m," the man rubbed his jaw, thoughtfully. "We just might have to make that outfit the next stop on our list." He grinned and opened the tent door for the nurse, "Good night, Margaret."

* * *

"Care to polish off the last of the Madetta brandy, Charles?" MacAllsiter asked once they were inside her tent. "It's about the only thing in here that didn't get broken."

"That would be a marvelous way to end an enjoyable evening. You were superb, by the way," Winchester informed her.

"I'm glad you liked it. I wish Crockett could have come back today. He would have had so much fun! His stories are much better than mine."

"I find that difficult to believe," the major smiled. "I noticed that he asked about everyone in the camp. However, he seemed the most concerned about you...and Nurse Kellye."

"Oh, you noticed that, too?" Sarabeth grinned as she set the hair tonic bottle on the table. "We're back to using coffee cups, again."

"I shall have some more crystal sent from Seoul."

"There's no hurry. Klinger's busy ordering the things we really need." She glanced at the man. He was looking tired. "It's my turn to wait on you, Charles. Let me help you to a chair."

"I'm all right." Winchester frowned. He took a step towards her, "Sarabeth, during that mortar attack, I was...absolutely terrified."

Her compassionate look showed him she understood. "So was everyone else in this camp."

"Yes, but for me…" As he tried to shift positions to ease his leg, his knee buckled.

Instantly, the nurse was at his side, grabbing him by the arm and slipping her other hand around his waist, her legs bracing to slow his fall. He held onto her shoulder for support as he regained his balance.

"_Damn_!" He muttered, under his breath, irritated at his frailty.

MacAllister helped him into a chair near the warmth of the heater. She positioned her cushioned crate under his leg and studied him with professional interest. As his pained expression eased, she decanted some of the brandy into his coffee mug and handed it him. "Drink this," she instructed.

Smiling in secret amusement as he performed his customary ritual of gentle swirling the amber liquid before savoring the flavor, Sarabeth poured some of the drink in her cup and sat in the other chair next to him. "Now, what were you saying?" she asked.

With a deep intake of breath and a long, exhaled sigh, Major Winchester began again, "It was different for me. Even as a child, I was rarely ill. And I certainly had never been injured so dreadfully. I was afraid of losing my composure…afraid of the pain…and…I was afraid of dying. But you were there---right beside me. I could see the care and concern you had as a nurse for her patient. I could also see the care and concern you had for me."

"The last two things I remember before the anesthesia took effect were that ridiculous rabbit joke you told and your wink. The confidence in that small gesture comforted me. And, later that evening, when I first awoke in post op, you were there---still right beside me; even though it wasn't your shift. That meant so much to me."

The man continued, "What I'm trying to say---so inadequately---is thank you. Thank you for being there for me."

"But that's what friends are for, Charles," MacAllister answered, "to share the good times and the bad." Softly, with a kind smile, she quoted: _Life is mostly froth and bubble; __Two things stand like stone: __Kindness in another's trouble,__Courage in your own. _(Adam Gordon)

"And you instilled your courage into me. Sarabeth, you are a very dear friend. And I…." A knock at the woman's door interrupted him.

Whatever else Winchester was going to say was lost as Hawkeye Pierce called to the woman inside the tent, "Sarabeth, can I come in?" With an apologetic shrug for the major, the Texan opened the door for the visiting doctor. "I saw your light, so I had to stop by." Noticing the other man, he said, "You're up late, Charles."

"Just having a cup of _coffee_ with a friend," the man replied casually.

Hiding her amusement, MacAllister bent down to pet the dog that had pushed Pierce aside in his hurry to reach the warmth of his shelter. "Howdy, pup," the woman gently rubbed his ears. "Where have you been: out _catting_ about?"

This time it was Winchester's turn to hide his smile behind his raised mug.

Straightening, the woman gestured to her chair, "Have a seat, Hawk. Would you like something to drink?" she offered.

"No. Thanks." The man began to pace. "We're not going to have enough money. We did take in a fair amount tonight. But, since we're splitting tonight's earnings between the orphans and B J, it's a start---but it's not enough. We still need to buy the tickets and pay for the rooms and.…"

"The dance should bring in a lot more," MacAllister commented. "Since there will booze and food to buy, and with each dance requiring a ticket, it should give us enough to pay finish paying the deposits, anyway."

"But what if it rains? What if we're shelled again? What if we have casualties come in?" Pierce questioned. He was still pacing in agitation.

The woman replied calmly, "There's still plenty of time. We can have another 'Fireside Chat' and pay day's coming again. We should have all the money we need before the deadlines."

"How can you be so sure of that, Sarabeth?" the doctor demanded.

"Because, if all else fails, I have a _Plan B_," she explained. "Now, Hawkeye, please sit down. You're making me dizzy. And you're upsetting Ernie. And he produces almost as much bodily fluid as an upset cow." At those words, the Texan grinned at the dark haired man who forced himself to calm down and return her grin.

"What are you planning to do---train the dog to dig for gold?" Captain Pierce asked. He quickly stepped away from the small canine that was sniffing his pant legs.

"I've got something better in mind." MacAllister replied. "But, I'm not going talk about it unless we really need the extra funds."

"Speaking of _Plan Bs_," Major Winchester chimed in, "Is that your plan; waltzing with Lieutenant Parnelli every time she starts to speak? I should think you would get tired of _cat walking_ with her"

"Perhaps he plans to _bunny hop_ with her instead," the woman offered with a laugh, "Or, maybe even, the _fox trot_."

Even Pierce laughed at that suggestion. "She caught me off guard," he admitted. "I'll have something better next time."


	10. 10

TEN

* * *

Nov. 14th: 1800 hours

"And, listen to this: his lawyer says that all of the money I put into our account belongs to Donald!" Margaret Houlihan was waving a crumpled sheet of paper around in anger. "When we got married, we both agreed to put at least half of each paycheck into an account, so that, by the end of the war, we would have a nice 'nest egg' started."

The woman was storming about in her tent while Lieutenant MacAllister listened in sympathy. "Every payday, for months now, I've sent half, usually more. But, Donald hasn't! It's been one of his many secrets: while I've been pinching pennies, he's been pinching Geisha girls!" She ranted in frustration. "And now, my money---my money---belongs to him!"

"Major, what does your lawyer say?" the other woman asked. "Don't you have the deposit receipts or the wire transfers or something to back up your claims?"

"I haven't even bothered with a lawyer," the senior officer replied. Dispiritedly, she dropped down on her cot. "It's been such a colossal mistake, that I don't want to fight it." She looked at the other nurse sadly, "I just want it to be over."

"That does not sound like the Margaret Houlihan I know," MacAllister observed. "The head nurse who sculpted a raw, unorganized medical outfit into one of the sharpest, most finely-honed surgical hospitals around; the major known for her adherence to the rules and regulations throughout the ranks."

"And you're giving up---without a fight---to a no-good_ turkey _of a man and his _carrion feeder _of alawyer?" The Texan shook her head in amazement, "I _swan_, Margaret, I never realized you were such a _feather weight_."

Looking up sharply, Houlihan glowered at the nurse until she saw her teasing grin. Straightening her shoulders, the major said, "That would be a _bird-brained_ thing to do, wouldn't it? I don't suppose any of your numerous brothers are _legal eagles_, are they?"

MacAllister smiled; both in relief that the woman had not taken offense and that she was actually responding to her banter. "Nary a one. But throughout your career, you've met a lot of influential people. Someone is bound to know a good military lawyer. If not, we can probably raise enough money to get a civilian one," she suggested with a grin.

"Not if I have to compete with Hawkeye's fund raisers." Margaret Houlihan smiled in return. She was feeling confident, again. "I'll start calling people first thing in the morning. And Donald had better look out!"

"Good for you!" Sarabeth grinned. "So," she added, nonchalantly, "does this mean you haven't given up on men, entirely?"

"No. I haven't given up on men---not yet, any way." Houlihan asserted.

"In that case," MacAllister smirked, "you won't mind that I invited Colonel Hodges to the dance tomorrow."


	11. 11

ELEVEN

* * *

On the day of the company dance, almost everyone was involved in the boisterous preparations. Even though the temperatures were low, several days of sunshine had lifted every one's spirits.

After breakfast for all camp personnel had been served, several of the nurses commandeered the kitchen to make sandwiches and bake sweets for the party. Others were helping Father Mulcahy prepare tickets and make decorations. Corporal Klinger was busy arranging temporary quarters for the people from the others MASH units who were coming. The enlisted men were setting up benches and moving tables to accommodate the expected crowd.

In the Swamp, Doctors Pierce and Hunnicutt were sorting through the records they had borrowed from the jukebox in the Officer's Club and the ones that had been requisitioned from the PX in Kimpo. Even Major Winchester had donated the use of some of his personal records for the festivities.

"…And I plan on dancing with every nurse in the camp—especially all the blonde, slinky ones," Hawkeye Pierce announced as he removed another album from its packing crate. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"But you still haven't completely explained what this charity is for, Hawkeye." B J Hunnicutt commented.

"I've told you, already. It provides an opportunity for deserving children to spend some time with their parents," Pierce replied. "Now, what about this one?" He held up a vinyl disk. "The title is: '_The Evergreen Tree_.' Ever heard of it?"

"But how are the children selected?" Hunnicutt persisted.

"Look, Beej. Mulcahy has all the details. And he approved of the charity. Why don't you ask him?" the man responded, almost desperately. He was running out of evasive answers.

Smirking at the other man's discomfort, Major Winchester stood and reached for his cane. "Gentlemen, this is an enlightening conversation. However, it is time for my physical therapy. Hunnicutt, do carry on," he directed as he left the tent.

The doctor from California grinned. He was enjoying Hawkeye's faltering replies. However, having enough fun for the moment, he ignored Winchester's directive and took the record from Hawkeye's hand. "I've never heard of this song or this artist. Let's listen to it on Charles's record player---while he's gone."

* * *

Initially, Major Winchester had refused to perform the walking therapy that had been prescribed; arguing that, as a physician, he knew what was best for his own treatment. He had been harangued by Hunnicutt, Margaret and Sarabeth, all of whom who had insisted that he needed the exercise to strengthen his leg. Pierce has also argued against him; using his position as Chief Surgeon to issue his medical orders. Colonel Potter had topped them all, making it a military order. So, reluctantly, he had been following instructions.

As least the rain had finally stopped and the mud puddles were drying. Now, he could walk outside, rather than pacing endlessly up and down the wooden planks in the hospital ward.

A week after his injury and his knee was still bothering him. He had planned to participate in the party. He wasn't certain he would be able to manage any dance steps, however.

"Good morning, Major," Lieutenant Parnelli called to him as he passed by her tent. She hurried to catch up with him.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," the man from Boston replied courteously. Inwardly, he sighed in annoyance.

"Are you going to the dance this afternoon?" the nurse asked as she walked with him.

"If I am able; yes," he answered and increased his stride, slightly. He preferred to walk alone, so no one would witness any of his stumbles.

Lieutenant Parnelli increased her pace, as well. Obviously, she intended to accompany him. "Are you going to save one dance for me?" she asked. She looked at up him expectantly.

"If I am able, Lieutenant, I shall certainly save a dance for you." Winchester replied. Thinking to add to his tent mate's torment, he added, "Although, I overheard Captain Pierce say he was hoping to spend most of his time with you."

"Really?"

Seeing her hopeful expression, the major regretted his words. "He mentioned that dancing with you was definitely on his agenda," he clarified.

"Well, maybe I'll dance with him and maybe I won't," the woman declared. "There's going to be a lot of new people here, today. I heard that some of the 121st Evac. Hospital doctors were coming. And, that Colonel Hodges is coming, too. But, I bet he stays with Major Houlihan the whole time." Even though the man was not responding, she persisted in her conversation, "Maybe he'll bring Captain Williams with him. I wouldn't mind spending more time with him. Do you think Mitch Cochlan will be here?" she asked.

"I have no idea," he replied in exasperation. "I suppose it would depend on field conditions and his commanding officer."

"I hope he doesn't come. It would serve her right," Parnelli spoke resentfully. "After the way they were behaving the other day! It was disgusting."

Stopping suddenly, Major Winchester turned to woman in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"You didn't see them? The way they were standing here, right in the middle of the compound, slobbering on and pawing at each other before he left?" Seeing his confusion, she continued, "That's right. You were still flat on your back in the hospital bed. You're lucky, Major. You missed a revolting sight!"

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," the officer responded in a stiff but polite manner. "I'm tired. I believe I shall return to my quarters."

* * *

Closing the door hard, Major Winchester sat down on his cot and roughly set his cane to one side. When it fell, he reached for it angrily and shoved it under his bed.

"Is something wrong, Charles?" B J asked in concern.

Pierce added, "Or is this your usual temper tantrum?"

Ignoring the inquiries, Winchester stated, "Gentlemen, I am fatigued. I intend to rest. Do take your idiotic and inconsiderate ramblings elsewhere. Like, to the minefields."

Looking at each other, the two men shrugged, not understanding his animosity.

"I was going to see if I could help myself to a cookie or a piece of cake, anyway," Hawkeye announced. He placed his Stetson on his head and fastened his jacket. "Coming, B J? It'll be warmer outside than staying in here with all this cold shoulder."

"I think I'll try to call Peg, instead. Just to see how they're doing," Hunnicutt followed the other man out of the tent.

"Cretins," Winchester muttered as the door closed behind them.

* * *

"B J keeps asking me things I can't answer. Like who sponsors the charity and how the children are selected. I'm running out of things to tell him," Captain Pierce was explaining to the red haired woman who was arranging cookies on a serving tray.

"You could try telling him the truth," Sarabeth offered.

"No. It has to be a surprise for him. That's the main idea," Pierce was adamant.

"Well, Hawkeye, if you aren't willing to tell B J what you've got planned, then, I reckon you're going to have to keep ducking the issue." She added, with a grin, "And try not to _quack up_ in the mean time."

"Lieutenant MacAllister!" Corporal Goldman ran into the kitchen. "Some farmer just brought Sophie in. And she's hurt. Colonel Potter would like for you to help him treat her."

"Tell the colonel I'll pick up a surgical pack and I'll be right there," the nurse directed. She removed her apron and reached for her jacket. Seeing that she was occupied, the dark haired man with the Stetson, reached for one of the cookies she had placed on the table. "Stop that!" MacAllister lightly swatted his hand and moved the platter away. "These are for the dance," she informed him. "Kellye, Linda, watch him," she spoke to the two women nearby. "And don't let him sweet talk you into stealing any sweets."

* * *

When Colonel Crockett MacAllister arrived at to the 4077th camp, he was greeted with smiling faces. Their excitement was obvious. Looking around at the countryside, he hoped nothing would spoil their plans. The extra men he had deployed to patrol the perimeter should help prevent any unwanted surprises.

Corporal Klinger, coming out of the mess tent, juggled a box in his arms and saluted the officer, "Good morning, sir."

His salute was returned. "Howdy, Corporal," the Texan drawled. "It looks someone kicked the anthill."

Klinger nodded in agreement. "With the dance starting soon, everyone's busy trying to get ready for it." He lifted the officer's bag from the back seat of the vehicle. "Sir, Colonel Potter asked if you wouldn't mind staying in the surgeon's tent. We have some senior nursing officers scheduled for the VIP tent."

"That will be fine. Hang up my Class A's, will you?"

"Would you like to have your uniform pressed, Colonel? There's a Korean family who's taking care of that. It seems like there's a lot of business for pressed suits today."

"Fancy that." Crockett MacAllister grinned. "How about Sarabeth's uniform? Has it been taken care of?"

The company clerk assured him, "The very first one.

"Then add mine to the list." The colonel took out his wallet and handed a few dollars in military script to the corporal. "That should take care of Sarabeth's too. Where's Colonel Potter?"

"He's out in the corral with Sophie. So is the Lieutenant."

"Thanks, Corporal. After I talk to him, I need to place a call to Mrs. Granbury, in Tokyo," MacAllister said. "She left a message for me yesterday and I haven't had a chance to return her call."

"Isn't she the general's wife who is going to baby-sit for Captain Hunnicutt?" Klinger asked. "I hope she hasn't changed her mind."

"Me, too," the red haired soldier confessed with a grin. "Otherwise, I may find myself taking care of little Erin."

"Why, hello, Colonel," Nurse Monica Parnelli greeted the officer. She had come from around the corner of a tent beside the men. "I didn't know you were coming, today."

"Yes, ma'am," the Texan greeted her with a smile. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"Then, would you save one dance for me?" she asked.

"I would be honored to dance with you," he replied courteously.

"Good. How about you, Corporal?" Parnelli turned to the other man, "Would you save a dance for me?"

Klinger gulped, "Sure, Lieutenant. But, I have to warn you, I'm not a very good dancer."

"That's all right. I just want to make sure my dance card is filled. See you there."

After the woman left, the two men glanced at each other. MacAllister simply shrugged and stated, "I'll be at the corral." He headed towards the outskirts of the camp.

* * *

"That's a good sized gash, Colonel. But I reckon we can suture it without too many problems," Lieutenant MacAllister commented. "If Sophie will cooperate," she added as the horse lunged against her rope.

"She's always been a mite skittish. Having the camp hit by artillery has made her worse, however," the older officer observed.

"I wonder why?" Sarabeth asked dryly. She looked towards the compound and smiled. "If you're willing to wait a few minutes, sir, we'll have someone who can help hold her."

When Crockett arrived at the corral, Sarabeth was leaning against the railing. "Out for your morning constitutional, big brother?"

"You bet. I came all the way to Korea---just to take this stroll, little sister. Good morning, Colonel. I see you got Sophie back."

"A farmer returned her earlier this morning," Potter replied happily. "We were just about to treat her injuries."

"Which is where you come in, Crockett," Sarabeth explained. "We need someone to hold her."

Smiling at her, he asked, "Why don't you just call Houston to handle it? He's the veterinarian in the family."

"Animal doctors do not make_ horse_ calls, that's why," the woman retorted.

Her brother grinned and approached the mare. "Easy, girl." With a skill honed by years of experience, MacAllister held the horse securely. He patted and talked to her as Colonel Potter began his work. Sarabeth held the instrument tray and grinned at her sibling. He smiled back at her. "You're thinking about the time Uncle Lamar wanted me to hold down that half-broke bronc while he tried to castrate it, aren't you?"

"That scene does come to mind. I must admit, you did hold onto that horse; as he jumped the fence; and ran through the corn field; and crossed the creek bed; and headed for the next county." The woman chuckled in remembrance, "I also recollect that Uncle Lamar wasn't too pleased with the situation."

"Neither was the bronc," Crockett answered with a grin.


	12. 12

TWELVE

* * *

Nov. 15th: 1200 hours

"…Now that we've all been introduced," Hawkeye Pierce addressed the gathering, "welcome to the 4077th 'Dining and Dancing Extravaganza'. Food and drinks can be purchased in the mess tent. You need a ticket for each dance. And, remember, we only have three hours…."

Major Winchester was sitting alone in the Swamp. Claiming that his leg prevented him from dancing, and that he was feeling poorly, he had declined to participate in the fund raiser. He listened as Pierce explained the charities that were to benefit.

He heard Margaret Houlihan warn the men to behave themselves around her nurses. She gave them several rules of conduct they were expected to follow. "...And, if any man gets too fresh, my nurses have my permission to flatten him," Houlihan noted.

"So do mine," Major Parker, the head nurse from the 8063rd MASH unit, added.

"And mine," Captain Markenson, from 121st evac. hosp chimed in.

The music began.

Struggling to his feet, the major walked to the door of his tent. Through the screen, he searched the crowd for a particular woman. He caught glimpses of her as she waltzed with her brother.

When that record ended, Hawkeye Pierce asked her for the next dance. The next one was with a surgeon from another hospital unit; then B J Hunnicutt; and Colonel Potter; and then a British officer. Her hair, escaping from its braid, was shining golden-red in the sunlight. He could see her happy smile.

Turning away, Major Winchester moved to his desk and picked up a book to read. He couldn't concentrate. Finally, annoyed with himself in particular, and with the world in general, he threw the book across the room.

He tended to his grooming, grabbed his cane and headed for the festivities.

* * *

Appropriating a bench near the dance area, Major Winchester sat down and watched the activities. He noticed Lieutenant MacAllister making her way towards him. Ernie, the camp mongrel, was following her, as usual.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Charles," her smile was warm with welcome.

"I find it impossible to sleep with that racket," he replied as he lowered his leg off the bench to make room for her. "Please, sit down."

Sarabeth smiled. "Want some rum punch? Watch it," the woman warned, "it will punch back." She handed him one of the drinks she was carrying and sat beside him. "It's a good thing we've had sunshine for a couple of days. Otherwise, we would have had mud wrestling instead of a dance," she joked.

"Something Pierce would, no doubt, enjoy."

Hearing the coldness in his voice, MacAllister lifted an eyebrow in response. She looked away and then said, still not looking at him, "I'm not sure what I've done to make you mad at me. However, I apologize, Major."

He sighed. "It is I who must apologize. I am not angry at you, Sarabeth. I am angry at myself."

"Whatever for?" she gazed at him in surprise.

"I am angry at myself for listening to gossip," he admitted. "I am even angrier for allowing it to affect me."

"Well, I'm glad it didn't affect you too much," the woman declared. Seeing her brother's approach, MacAllister smiled at him, "Howdy, brother mine. Did you enjoy your dance with Monica?"

"At least, she doesn't step on my feet, like you do, sister mine," he replied with a grin. He nodded at the other man. "Major, glad you could make it. I was going to buy y'all a drink, but I see that my sister has already beaten me to it."

The Texan sat beside them on the bench. "Howdy, pup," he reached down to scratch the dog behind its ears. "Sarabeth," he asked as he carefully scrutinized the compound, "do you have anyone working crowd control?"

"I sure do. Who do I need to take care of?"

"That Marine sergeant over there," MacAllister indicated the direction. "He's working himself into a mean mood."

"Already onto him, big brother," she replied. As they were talking, a man had come up beside the soldier. He started up a conversation and then, laughing at some comment, put his arm on the man's shoulder and casually led him away.

"Very nicely done, little sister," Crockett praised her.

"Thanks. I learned from a master," she grinned at him. "Anyone else I need to know about?"

"Not at the moment."

Changing the subject, Sarabeth asked, "You couldn't persuade Fannin to come? I sure wanted to see him."

Crockett shrugged. "I could have ordered him to come, but he would have been so surly that everyone would have been miserable. Fannin hasn't really been interested in anything---except flying---ever since you had to take him down to the hospital morgue three years ago."

"I know," she sighed. Her expression was sad as she thought about her sibling. "But, I was hoping." Reaching for her, Crockett gave his sister a reassuring hug. She smiled at him. "That's one of the few good things about having a brother," Sarabeth admitted, embracing him in return.

When the record ended, the older MacAllister stood, "Now that I've complied with the '_can't dance with the same nurse twice in a row_' rule, I reckon I'll go ask a certain young lady if she'd like to dance with me...again."

"And again?" his sister teased.

"And again," her brother responded with a lop-sided grin. "Excuse me," he nodded to them and strolled towards a pretty, dark haired nurse.

"Your British major is returning," Winchester informed her as he saw the man approaching behind her. "Are you aware that the English call all Americans _Yankees_?" he asked her with a returning hint of humor.

"Me? A Yankee?" She laughed at him. "Them's fighting words, mister."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," the officer from England spoke to her. His accent made the woman hide her grin behind her glass. "Would you care for another dance with me?"

"I'd like that, sir." Sarabeth turned to the man beside her. "May I keep this here," she indicated her drink, "and finish it later?"

"Certainly, my dear," the New Englander responded graciously.

The officer held out his arm and the woman slipped her hand into the bend of his elbow. As they walked away, the doctor heard him comment, "You Yanks certainly throw a good party."

Winchester enjoyed hearing her laughter.

* * *

"We're in the money!" Hawkeye Pierce exclaimed excitedly. He was waving a large amount of military script around as he danced a jig in the mess tent. The party had ended and the guests had returned to their own outfits and the clean up had been completed. He, Mulcahy and Sarabeth were now counting the party proceeds.

"Not so fast, Rockefeller," the woman declared. She grimaced as she adjusted the ice pack on her ankle. "We still have to pay for the beer and the liquor we requisitioned from the PX; and for the food; and the records," she read over her list. "And, most importantly, we still have to pay the off-duty MPs for their time."

"If we pay all that, we're only going to have enough for the plane tickets," Pierce protested. "We won't be able to pay for the hotel and the restaurants. And we just have to do this for B J. We have to!"

"Ok," the nurse shrugged, "you tell those tanks we're not going to pay them."

"Well," the doctor reconsidered, "maybe we should pay them. For doing a good job keeping the peace…and to keep from being torn to pieces," he added with a grin.

"Yes, I strongly recommend paying the MPs," Crockett MacAllister's voice came from the doorway. He was casually leaning on the framework of the tent. "Military Police place great importance on their professions, and their paychecks." Moving towards them, the senior officer announced, "Sarabeth, I have to leave. Do you reckon you can walk to my jeep with me?"

"I reckon I can." Her brother helped her into her coat held the door for her. "That's what _Plan B_ is for, Hawk," she called over her shoulder, "Trust me; we'll have enough money."

* * *

The two Texans walked slowly across the compound, holding onto each other affectionately. "Why didn't you ask me for some help, instead of paying those MPs?" he asked. "I could have sent a couple of men to help and it wouldn't have cost you anything."

"Brother mine, I've already asked enough favors of you. You're going to provide Peg Hunnicutt with an escort from the airport. And you found us a baby-sitter in Tokyo. Not to mention everything else you've done so far."

"So don't mention it, sister mine," Crockett told her with a grin. He kissed her forehead. "I enjoyed the dance. Thanks for inviting me."

"I'm so glad you were able to come! I wish you could stay longer." Sighing, the younger Texan held her brother in a tight embrace. "Be careful out there!" she instructed him.

"I reckon you're in more danger here from wolves like Pierce than I am out on the front lines," he teased.

Sarabeth laughed, "Not while I have a very wonderful big brother I can use as a club."

"Any time, little sister, any time." Suddenly more solemn, Crockett looked at his sibling.

"Sarabeth, promise me, you won't go anywhere outside the confines of the camp without a guard. Even if you're only going out to see Sophie or down to Rosie's bar. Don't go anywhere alone. You hear me?" he demanded sternly.

Matching his seriousness, she nodded in agreement, "I hear you." Hesitantly, the woman asked, "It's going to get worse?"

"It's going to get worse," Colonel MacAllister agreed grimly.


	13. 13

THIRTEEN

* * *

Nov. 18th: 1300 hours

_My Dearest Peg,_

_It's been three days since our party and that means I'm three days closer to seeing you and Erin. I am getting excited. I can't show how much I'm looking forward to our reunion because I'm still not supposed to know anything about it. Monica Parnelli has tried twice now to 'spill the beans'. Both times, Hawk swept her off her feet in a dancing frenzy. So far, his 'secret' is safe. I'm enjoying making him squirm. I'm also enjoying seeing his enthusiasm. He is beside himself—which is two more Hawkeye Pierce's than Charles Winchester can stand. _

_Our party was a success. I danced with Margaret, Sarabeth, Kellye, Monica, and some of the other nurses. The whole time, however, I was wishing that I was dancing with you, instead of them. _

_We had invited everyone from the nearby MASH units and the Evac Hospitals. Not everyone was able to come, of course. Several were able to make the trip, though. We also had a couple of Marine squads stop by, as well as a British outfit, and some Greek soldiers who had some minor injuries. After they were patched up, they taught us some of their folk dances. It really was fun. Luckily the sun was shining._

_Which is it no longer doing, unfortunately. That night, another weather front moved through. It's been raining ever since. And, the temperatures are dropping. We can expect very cold temperatures before too long. The coats and gloves the Army has issued to everyone do not keep us all that warm._

_Colonel Potter gave the medical staff a lecture this morning on the signs of hypothermia and how it will affect our treatment regimes. In a way, being too cold can be helpful to an injured man, because it helps to slow the bleeding. On the other hand, once tissues begin to freeze, it leads to loss of extremities and organ failure. _

_To make things even worse, the artillery shelling has resumed. It has been a constant barrage starting about four hours ago. It's not hitting anywhere near here but we can hear the booming reverberations. Everyone knows causalities will start coming in, anytime now; which is why I'm writing you now. Who knows when we'll have any spare time, again. _

_Hawkeye just came up with this bizarre theory: he says that those big guns must create a great deal of warmth. And that's why the Chinese troops are firing them so often. They're trying to stay warm. If that's the case, he says, there's a whole squadron of soldiers running around in their skivvies, all toasty. It's an interesting scene to imagine._

_I'd better go, my darling. Take care of yourselves for me. Give Erin a hug and a kiss from me and tell her, daddy loves her. And tell her mommy the same thing. I love you, Peg! And, I can't wait to see you both._

_All my love,_

_B J

* * *

_

Other people around the medical compound were also trying to utilize every minute. Some were writing letters of their own. Nurse Baker was finishing her note to her husband:

…_I wish you had been able to get leave to come our dance, Tony. It was fun but it would have been even better with you there. I'm looking forward to seeing you, again, soon._

_In the meantime, please be careful out there! I know you probably get tired of hearing that. But, I worry about you being on the front lines. Every time an ambulance comes in, I pray that you won't be in it._

_I love you! XXX and OOO,_

_Christie

* * *

_

Father Mulcahy was also composing a communiqué:

…_I realize that there is a large population of people with Italian surnames in South Philadelphia, Father Sartone. However, I'm hoping you can provide me with some information on one of our nurses. _

_Thankfully, she hasn't been hurt. But, we have been unable to contact any family members. And, I wanted their help to give her a special Christmas present. _

_The only information we have is….

* * *

_

Other people were using the time to tend to their grooming:

"Can I borrow your nail polish, Sandra?" Lieutenant Riggs asked her tent mate.

"Why bother, Sherry? You know that Major Houlihan is going to make you remove it before you scrub for the OR," Nurse Smith replied.

"Not unless she has a foot inspection," the other woman answered as she began unlacing her boots.

* * *

And, out in the corral:

"There." Colonel Potter, with his curry comb in hand, stepped away from his horse. "You look pretty enough to win first prize at the county fair, Sophie." He watched the mare's ears twitch as she listened to the continuous shelling in the distance. "They're not coming this way, old girl," the man reassured the nervous animal. "At least, I hope not," he added fervently.


	14. 14

FOURTEEN

* * *

Nov. 19th: 1300 hours

"Corn on the cob."

"Sweet and sour pork."

"Peach cobbler."

"Sushi."

The 4077th personnel were naming the foods they missed the most. Hoping to drown out the war noises bellowing in the background, Captain Pierce had started the menu recital at his table. For a change, Major Houlihan had allowed her nurses to participate. Everyone had contributed once to the game. It was going around the tables a second time. It was Doctor Winchester's turn.

Lieutenant Campbell, the anesthetist for his team, was sitting on her stool at the head of the table. She was leaning against her equipment. She was asleep. The surgeon and his nurse were sitting on a bench. Both of them had their feet elevated. Both of them had their eyes closed. All three were on a ten minute break.

The surgical teams had been operating for fifteen hours. With less than an hour's sleep, they had been called back on duty. This was their seventh hour of the second OR session.

"Lobster Newburgh," Charles Winchester contributed.

Taking her turn, Sarabeth MacAllister said, "Fried green tomatoes."

"Fried green tomatoes? What's that?" Nurse Thompson asked.

"Just what it sounds like," the woman replied. She didn't bother to open her eyes. "You take a green tomato with just a suggestion of pink on it. Slice it thin. Dip it in batter. Fry it. And eat it hot. It's delicious."

"That's weird," Lieutenant Baker commented with a laugh.

"No weirder than eating cooked eel wrapped in rice and sea weed," MacAllister answered. She opened one eye to check the clock on the wall. "Four minutes left, sir."

Her surgeon nodded.

"A baked potato; with lots of butter, sour cream, cheese and chives."

"Manicotti."

The game continued.

* * *

"I have one for y'all," Lieutenant MacAllister spoke as another patient was being prepared for surgery. "What type of food is a lighthouse, a rose trellis, a windstorm and a sand dune?"

Major Winchester was examining a set of x-rays the camp priest was holding up for him. "That woman takes delight in my misery," he commented. Neither man could see the other's smile behind his mask.

The nurse winked at her doctor before adding, professionally, "Your patient's ready, sir."

Several guesses were made. "Y'all are all wrong," Sarabeth replied. "May I continue, sir?" she asked her surgeon. Winchester nodded his permission. "Are y'all ready for this?" Hearing a soft-spoken '_no_' from her doctor, she laughed. "It's a _beacon, lattice and tornado sand ridge_."

Moans of protests filled the operating room. So did the laughter.

"Here's another one. What's another name for...?"

"…A nurse who's talking while she has a patient on the table?" Major Houlihan finished her question for her.

"Mud?" MacAllister suggested.

"Close enough," Houlihan agreed.

"Closing mouth, Major," the woman answered. She had been allowed to talk more than usual. She was content with that.

* * *

Nov. 20th: 0700 hours

Once again, the ambulances started arriving at the medical unit. Once again, the sound of artillery fire was heard from a few miles away.

"They're starting early today," B J Hunnicutt noted. He was taking a break on top of his table. His nurse was sitting on a nearby stool. She was yawning and trying to stay awake.

"That's because they get paid overtime for that. Give me those sutures, faster," Hawkeye told his surgical nurse. "That's better." He was working as he talked, "Their shelling explains why we get to work overtime. Which reminds me, Colonel; I expect to be compensated for this."

"You'll have to talk to the shop foreman about that," Potter commented as he waited for another soldier to be brought to his table.

"Lieutenant MacAllister," Corporal Klinger called to her. He was standing just inside the operating room doors.

"Present," she answered in a very soft whisper. She didn't look up from her patient. Her ankle was hurting and she was trying not to move any more than necessary.

"No presents, ma'am. Just a strange message."

"From Crockett?" She glanced up in sudden concern.

"From the supply sergeant at Kimpo," Klinger reported. "He says your medical supplies have arrived. And you are to come get them---immediately."

"I haven't ordered any medical supplies."

"It's your name and serial number on the shipping label. And he says that some of the crates are marked '_keep refrigerated_'. He doesn't have the space to store them."

"Medical supplies that need to be refrigerated? How many crates are there?" MacAllister asked.

Still holding the surgical mask over his face, Klinger looked at his sheet of paper, "Fifteen all total."

"_Fifteen_!" Sarabeth was still confused. "But I didn't... Wait a minute!" She was getting excited, "Corporal, what's the origin of shipment for those medical supplies?"

"I don't know."

"Find out!" She ordered.

The company clerk hurried back to his office to follow her instructions.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" Colonel Potter asked.

"I'm not sure, sir. Except that, I've written to my folks about how bad the food is here; especially the meat---when we have any---where we have to check it for shoelaces or collars---before we eat it. So, maybe..."

"Your family sent some food? Real food?" Major Houlihan asked with eagerness.

"With any luck, ma'am."

"What would they send?" B J Hunnicutt questioned.

"We do raise cattle, you know," MacAllister arched her eyebrow in response.

"You mean---like steaks?"

"And ribs?"

"And roasts?"

"And hamburger meat?"

Other people were getting excited, as well.

"If my daddy found a way to send us some of our melt-in-your-mouth, so-delicious-it's-sinful, corn-fed, Texas-bred MacAllister steers, he'll send everything but the hide, the horns and the holler," she assured them. "And the brains," the Texan added with a chuckle. "He knows I hate to even look at the brains. They remind me of scrambled eggs!"

The company clerk returned and announced, "The point of origin is: Big Oak, Texas, USA."

Sarabeth laughed in delight. "Thank the Lord! We're going to be carnivores again!"

"What are you waiting for? Go! Go!" Captain Pierce urged.

She looked down at the injured man on the operating table, "I'm kinda busy right now, sir."

"Klinger, can anyone else pick up those supplies?" Potter asked.

"I already asked that, sir. He said he'll release them only to Lieutenant MacAllister."

"Then tell him that she'll be there as soon as she can. And have him put those crates outside, if he needs the room. It's cold enough out there to freeze a fire."

"And tell him to guard them with his life!" Hawkeye added.


	15. 15

FIFTEEN

* * *

"…Klinger, I want you and MacAllister to pick up those supplies and get back here. No dawdling," Colonel Potter instructed. "I'm also assigning a guard to go with you."

* * *

"…Lieutenant Parnelli, I'm changing the duty roster," Major Houlihan announced. "You're taking the second shift in post op #1."

"That's MacAllister's assignment," the other woman protested.

"Lieutenant MacAllister is on another assignment at the moment," the senior nurse replied. "Report for second shift, Parnelli," she reiterated, "and don't be late, this time."

* * *

The military vehicle stopped at the 4077th and the officer in charge surveyed his surroundings with suspicion. "Wait here. And watch your back. These people can be dangerous," he cautioned his driver.

The corporal asked incredulously, "A hospital unit? A bunch of nurses and doctors are dangerous?"

The officer glanced around the empty compound. "This place is swarming with subversives and Communist sympathizers," he answered as he climbed out of the Army jeep.

* * *

Captain Hunnicutt, standing near the door of the Swamp, curiously observed the officer approaching the mess tent. "Uh oh, Hawkeye," he yawned and turned to the man behind him. "You better hide your secret spy decoder ring. Colonel Flagg just arrived."

"I wonder why he's skulking around here, again," Pierce commented. "We don't have any prisoners for him to interrogate."

"Maybe he's here to tell us there's a war going on," the other doctor suggested.

"It'scalled a 'police action'," Hawkeye reminded him.

B J shrugged, "Judging from all the bloody bodies they send us, it looks like a war to me."

"To me, too. Come on. Let's go see what the Paranoid Patriot has to say." Captain Pierce called to the man, "Sorry, Colonel Flagg. But you've wasted a trip. We're fresh out of prisoners for you to torture."

"You still don't get it, do you, Pierce?" He replied with stern conviction, "If I can save even one American life from the _Communist Threat_...by whatever means...it is worth it." The CID man was so convinced the importance of his mission that he failed to realize how ludicrous he appeared to others.

"You're right, Flagg. I don't get it. And I don't want to. And I've had enough of this warped bad dream," Hawkeye remarked. He turned to the other doctor, "Well, Lenin, my good man, shall we return to the Kremlin?"

"Right behind you, Stalin," Captain Hunnicutt agreed.

"Just a minute, Pierce! Where's your CO?" Flagg demanded.

"He's in his office. It's that big metal building right behind you. Don't get lost on your way over there. So long, Colonel. It's been nice babbling with you. Wake me up for the next revolution."

The government intelligence officer watched them leave. "I'll dig up the evidence on you yet..._comrade,_" he promised himself. "And then I'm going to bury you with it."

Instead of heading for Potter's office, Flagg began his own inspection of the MASH camp.

* * *

The supply truck bounced and the red haired woman awoke with a start. She straightened in the seat, stretched, and checked her watch. "We should be nearly there. Sorry about that, Klinger, I didn't intend to sleep the whole way."

"That's OK, Lieutenant. I won't tell anyone. I won't tell them that you snore, either."

"I snore?" MacAllister laughed when she realized he was teasing, "I do not snore. And I don't recommend that you make that announcement to _any_ of my brothers. They'd be real interested in discovering just how you knew that."

"Thanks for the warning," the corporal grinned at her.

"Do you want me to drive this beast for a while?" Sarabeth offered.

"I'm all right. But, do you think could pour me of that coffee?"

"Coming right up," the woman reached for the coffee container. "Private, would you like some, too?" she asked the man sitting beside her.

"No, thank you, ma'am," the soldier smiled but alertly kept his eyes on the roadway.

With another lurch of the vehicle, MacAllister had to grab for the dashboard to keep her balance. "You want this in you or on you?" she questioned.

"Preferably in." Gingerly, Klinger accepted the partially-filled cup, "this isn't easy."

"Is anything easy---in the Army?" Sarabeth commented. Pouring herself a cup of the hot liquid, she questioned the driver, "So, tell me, Klinger, what are you going to do after this 'police action' is over?"

"Go home to Toledo," he shrugged. "Have a hot dog at Packo's, punch out Sam, Laverne's sausage man and try to pick up the pieces. After that, I'll go back to work in the textile factory."

"You worked in a textile factory? So how did you get assigned to a medical unit?" The nurse was curious.

"Typical Army efficiency," he replied. "The man at the draft board asked me if I had ever taken an x-ray. I thought he meant had I ever had an x-ray. I said yes. So here I am. What about you? Do you intend to become a 'lifer' and make the Army your career?"

She laughed, "No way! That's Crockett's idea of a good time---not mine."

The company clerk was grinning at her, "I thought that might be your answer. What do you plan to do, Sarabeth?"

"I'm not sure. When I signed up, the Hospital Board promised me I'd have my job when I returned. But now, I think I'd like to travel some, first," She continued, "I'd like to see the Statue of Liberty and the Golden Gate Bridge and every national park in between. I'd also like to see all those kangaroos and koalas Mitch keeps telling me about." Sarabeth shrugged and joked, "Maybe, I'll just join a band of gypsies."

"Camel caravans are always an option, too," the big-nosed, swarthy man offered with a smile.

"Yeah, but how do you get the saddle on them?" she teased. Then, changing topics as she often did, MacAllister asked, "Have you considered getting certification as an x-ray technician?"

He was surprised. "Me? No. I couldn't do that."

"Why couldn't you? You've had lots of experience here. And you're good at it," the woman encouraged.

The man thought about her suggestion, "I do like working with the patients and the medical staff. It would be better than what I was doing back home."

"Think about it some more. And, what the GI Bill doesn't cover; I'd like to take care of the extra expenses."

Klinger stared at MacAllister in astonishment and quickly returned his attention to his driving. "You mean that? Why?"

"Because you're my friend. And, because I have a fondness for camel drivers," Sarabeth answered, grinning.

"Help me pay for it? I couldn't do that," he protested. "I might borrow a couple of dollars for a poker game. But I couldn't take your money for something like that. Nurses don't get paid that much as it is."

"That's for sure and for certain. But, I can't think of a better cause. Besides, don't you know every Texan has four or five oil wells in the backyard? We have to use that money for some thing besides lighting the cook stove with it," she answered lightheartedly. "But I am serious about the offer, Max. And I'd like for you to think about it seriously, too."

"I will. Sarabeth, you're aces."

* * *

Lieutenant Parnelli rushed out of her tent. She was pushing her shirt tail into her fatigue pants and pulling on her jacket at the same time. Hurrying to get to the post op ward, she ran into a man standing near the hospital unit. "Sorry!" she exclaimed and continued on her way, "I'm going to be late and I do not want to scrub bed pans again."

The soldier grabbed her arm, "Just a minute. I want to talk to you."

"Look, I told you…." Monica Parnelli saw the face of the man for the first time. He was not anyone she recognized. Noticing his insignia, she apologized again, "Sorry, sir, but I'm running late."

"Do you know this man?" He showed her a blurry photograph.

"It looks like Colonel MacAllister," the woman shrugged and started on her way. He maintained his grip. "I have to get to post op!" she protested.

"I'm Colonel Flagg, CID." The officer stared fixedly at the nurse. "When I'm conducting an investigation, I get cooperation. Or I get blood. Got that?" He asked as he roughly squeezed her arm.

Eyes widening at the pressure on her arm and his threatening tone, she nodded, "Sure, Colonel. But, can we talk somewhere---inside---where it's warmer?"

* * *

"Why has this crate been opened, Sergeant?" Lieutenant MacAllister demanded. She and Corporal Klinger were standing inside the supply hut surveying the crates that had been flown in from the States.

The supply sergeant shrugged nonchalantly. "A board was split during shipment. I had to inspect for damages, ma'am," he grinned affably at her. "Those are some mighty interesting_ medical supplies_, Lieutenant," he drawled.

Grinning back at him, she agreed, "They're very necessary to our continued good health. Were any of those_ medical supplies _damaged?"

"Nary a one. But they sure did some damage to my taste buds. I was planning to use a little blackmail on y'all to keep some of those _supplies _for myself; changed my mind, as soon as I heard you talk. It's good to hear someone from back home, again."

"What part of Texas are you from?"

"I'm from Liberty."

"Ah, one of those Pineywood boys. Open up this crate, again, Sergeant. I reckon we can spare a sirloin for a fellow Texan."

"With pleasure, ma'am! And, Lieutenant, the next time you're expecting any more of these _supplies_, just holler. I'll make sure I have room for them; even if I have to move out some of General Herron's fresh vegetables for it."

"Fresh vegetables? You have fresh vegetables this time of year?" The company clerk and chief camp scrounger became involved in the conversation, "Hey, Sarge, maybe we can work out something."

Sarabeth laughed, "I'll leave y'all to work out trade agreements. Just remember what the colonel said, Klinger. Besides, if we don't bring back these crates soon, we're going to be lynched!"

Lieutenant MacAllister took the envelope that accompanied the packages and wandered over to a chair by the heater in the warehouse. She settled down happily to read the letters from home.

* * *

Putting away his notebook, Colonel Flagg nodded in satisfaction. "That information may be very helpful, Lieutenant." Glancing around the vacant Officer's Club, trying to catch anyone who was listening to their conversation, he leaned forward, "Memorize this number and keep me informed. I need eyes and ears inside this camp…." 


	16. 16

SIXTEEN

* * *

The supply truck pulled into the hospital compound and was met by an anxious horde. They were not there to take care of injured people, however. They were hungry.

Cartonswere quickly unloaded and carried into the mess tent. Everyone crowded around the Texan as she opened the first small box. They looked in consternation at the dirt that was inside the container.

"Sarabeth, if your family sent us crates of dirt, your name really will be mud," Captain Pierce warned. "My salivary glands have been working non-stop just thinking about a piece of red meat."

The woman laughed in reply. Digging her fingers into the soil, she brought a handful up to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Straight from my mama's garden. That's better than any perfume!" She announced while she continued to move the dirt aside, "Don't give up hope yet, Hawkeye. This is just packing material to keep these things from breaking."

With a grin, MacAllister produced three small packages. Carefully brushing the dirt from the sides and removing the brown wax paper from around the first one, she set a glass canning jar on the table. "Bread and butter pickles for Crockett," she read the label.

Selecting another one, Sarabeth announced, "Pickled okra for Fannin. And, strawberry preserves for me." She replaced the homemade gifts in the box and moved to another crate.

One carton held more canning jars filled with fruits and vegetables. Another had several tins of cookies, brownies and cakes. Still another had several bottles of homemade wine.

"Watermelon wine?"MajorWinchester was horrified at the thought.

"It's notmy favorite," MacAllister admitted. "It is one step above Swamp Swill, however."

The next one crate that was pried open brought emotional cries from the crowd.

"I'll take care of these," Captain Pierce said as he grabbed for a package marked 'beef ribs'.

"Touch those and you'll have teeth marks on your wrist," he was warned by the camp clergyman.

"Father, I'm surprised at you. The meek shall inherit the earth, remember?" The surgeon grinned at the priest.

"But the meat-hungry shall enjoy the ribs, my son," Mulcahy retorted.

"Charles, can I borrow $5.00?" B J Hunnicutt suddenly asked.

"Whatever for?"The major looked at the man in askance.

"Because I just remembered that I owe Sarabeth $5.00."

Laughing, the woman replied, "This would be a good time to call in my poker IOUs, wouldn't it?"


	17. 17

SEVENTEEN

* * *

Nov. 26th: 1000 hours

_My dear Mildred,_

_I got your letter four days ago. But, we've been so busy, that I haven't had a chance to even read it until now. _

_I'm glad to hear that the kids and the grand kids will be spending Thanksgiving with you. I know that you'll enjoy being with them. I wish that I could be with you, too, dear one. Tell them that I love them and that I will be thinking about them---and you---tomorrow when the family gathers around the table._

_Our own Thanksgiving plans have become brighter. Sarabeth MacAllister's family, and possibly everyone else in her home town, sent her several crates packed with food. When she and Klinger returned from Kimpo with that shipment, the supply truck was unloaded faster that I have ever seen one unloaded before. Everyone here was so excited about having fresh meat to eat. _

_She came over to my office a few minutes ago. She was tired---she had just finished her post-op shift. She asked me how I wanted to distribute the meat and garden produce her family had provided. I have been trying to decide about that. She is very generous with her possessions. And one person couldn't possibly eat all of that alone. Still, it doesn't seem quite fair for everyone to assume that she is going to give all of her food away to them. I asked her for her suggestions. As usual, she had already prepared a plan of action. _

_She wanted to cook some of the meat into a nutritious broth; both for the patients and for the surgical teams during long OR sessions. This broth could be frozen in small containers and heated quickly when needed. That's a very good idea. We often have patients who aren't ready for solid foods but who could have more than an IV solution. And a cup of hot broth would be a great 'pick-me-up' during surgery._

_MacAllister also wanted to give some of the food to the orphanage; and some to Cochlan's outfit—if we could locate them. The rest would be shared with everyone here as part of our Thanksgiving meal—with the senior officers being given the first opportunity to choose their own._

_She laughed when I asked her if she had saved any of this meat for herself and her brothers. She said she had to: she knew her brothers would 'nail her hide to a barn wall' if she didn't. _

_Father Mulcahy, Nurse Kellye, B J Hunnicutt, and some of the other people here, have asked me if they could take up a collection to help pay for the shipping costs for the food MacAllister's family sent to us. I agreed to their plan. It must have been very expensive to ship all of that here. It is the least we can do to help repay their generosity. I did ask B J if he wanted to keep this fundraiser a 'secret_'. _He grinned_ _and said we might as well, since we have so many other secrets going on around here. I turned that project over to them._

_We're also going to have another of our 'Fireside Chats' after we eat. I enjoyed the first one we had. You would have liked it, too. I'll let you know if Sarabeth _steers_ us into any more puns this time._

_With good food inside us and good entertainment afterwards, we should have an increase in morale, again. I hope so. We need all the extra cheer we can get. _

_Colonel MacAllister has been keeping me up to date with war developments; especially ones that might affect this camp. He doesn't paint a very pleasant picture._

_Colonel Flagg showed up here, again. Pierce had another battle of words and wits with him. I am surprised that no one else reported any conversations with him. He usually likes to annoy as many people as he can. I know the man has an important job to perform but his fervor can be quite aggravating._

_Anyway, I can't wait to sink my teeth into that T-bone steak I signed up for._

_I love you, Mildred; always. _

_Sherm_


	18. 18

EIGHTEEN

* * *

Nov 27th: 0800 hours

When the Army jeep arrived at the MASH unit, Lieutenant MacAllister hurried out to greet the people riding in it. Momentarily disappointed at seeing only one brother, instead of two, she quickly smiled at her oldest sibling, "Howdy, brother mine. Happy Thanksgiving!"

Instead of greeting her in return, Colonel MacAllister climbed out of the vehicle and said, "Sarabeth, take a walk with me."

Puzzled, the young woman followed her brother without argument. He was never this serious without a good reason. He led her towards the horse corral. Reaching the perimeter of the camp, the guard stationed there started to accompany them. "No need, Private," MacAllister indicated the weapon at his hip. "Stay at your post."

* * *

At Sophie's pen, a man was standing near the shed. He waited for the two Texans to approach. "All the men are in their positions, sir," he reported. "And the pilot is waiting for your orders."

Nodding, the older MacAllister carefully looked over the area before speaking, "Sarabeth, this is Captain Sterling. I wanted y'all to meet each other and get to know each other's voices. He may be calling you from time to time, instead of me. He's my '_left _hand man'," the colonel, with a slight grin, informed her.

"Not your _right_ hand man?" his sister asked with a teasing grin of her own.

"No, ma'am," the soldier replied with a smile. "I'm definitely left-handed."

After they talked briefly, the senior officer spoke to his aide, "Take your position. We're good to go."

"Right," the captain acknowledged. He smiled at the woman. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am. I'll be in touch." He walked towards his own jeep, parked further down the road without another word.

* * *

"Is Fannin going to be here today?" Sarabeth asked as the two of them returned to the hospital compound.

"If every thing goes right, he'll be here in time to eat," her brother replied.

"And just when are you going to tell me what's going on?" She asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

"Later…maybe," Crocket answered. He arched an eyebrow back at her and grinned.

Snorting in annoyance, the woman checked her watch. "It will have to be later, big brother. Major Houlihan called a staff meeting for 0900 hours. And, I'm going to be late for it, if I don't get a move on."

"Sarabeth, do me a favor. Ask Houlihan if she will delay her entrance by about ten minutes; to give me a chance to talk to the nurses alone."

* * *

"…Ah, here's Major Houlihan, now," the Texan stood, as a courtesy to the head nurse. He smiled at the assembled group of women. "If y'all will excuse me, ladies; I have a call to make to Mrs. Granbury."

* * *

Nov. 27th: 0930 hours

Corporal Klinger knocked at Major Houlihan's door. "Excuse me, ma'am," he announced as he entered at her invitation, "but Colonel Potter requests that Lieutenant MacAllister come to his office immediately."

The two senior nurses, who were sitting in the tent, going over the monthly surgical reports, looked at each other. The major shrugged. "Go ahead," she gave her permission to the other woman. "We'll finish this later."

* * *

"You sent for me, sir?" MacAllister asked as she knocked and entered the office. She looked at the officers who were gathered there. Colonel Potter, Major Winchester and Captain Pierce were already seated. Colonel MacAllister was standing nearby.

"Sit down, Lieutenant," the commander indicated a chair. "Colonel MacAllister has something to say to us." He yielded his authority to the visiting officer.

MacAllister stepped over to the entrance way. "Corporal, see that we're not disturbed," he ordered and firmly shut the door before turning to the medical staff. "I'm conducting an official investigation for some very serious allegations. Y'all are expected to cooperate completely; and to answer my questions truthfully. Do y'all understand?"

"Yes, sir," came the perplexed replies.

"Major, do you recall meeting a Colonel Flagg?" MacAllister asked.

The surgeon nodded, "I do, indeed, remember him."

"He has the opinion that you set him up."

"I did," Winchester answered with a slight grin. "However, that was some time ago. Has it taken him this long to decide that?"

"His mills grind slow. But they do grind," the soldier acknowledged. "Colonel Flagg recently marked the three of your 201 personal files for further investigations. Anything Flagg is interested in interests me. So, Winchester," MacAllister directed, "tell me how you met him and tell me how you managed to get him into trouble with his department."

"Very well, colonel," the man began. "We were in triage. I had an American soldier with a chest wound. Pierce had a North Korean with a head wound. I felt my patient should have top priority. He felt his patient should go first. He is the Chief Surgeon---I was overruled."

"Colonel Flagg showed up about seven hours later. Since I had objected to the order of treatment, he wanted me to find some incriminating evidence on Pierce. Flagg thought he was a Communist sympathizer."

"Now, while I would welcome Pierce's humiliation, I will not spy on him. I informed the colonel of that fact. At first, he tried to bribe me by offering me a permanent assignment in Boston. Then he insinuated that something would happen to my family if I didn't help him."

"Cooperation through coercion; that's Flagg, all right." MacAllister motioned, "Go on."

* * *

"...I planted the diagram of the camp, along with the time of the 'supposed' meeting, on the North Korean soldier. I then 'discovered' it while the colonel was present. After some prompting, Colonel Flagg decided that it must be Pierce's rendezvous notification. At the specified time, he brought in the MPs and arrested the two civilians who were with Pierce and Colonel Potter. As it happens; the two 'Communists' were the mayor and the police chief of Uijongbu---and they were there for our weekly bridge game. They were not amused by his mistake." Winchester smiled at the memory.

The colonel conducting the investigation turned to another medical officer, "Captain Pierce, what do you know about Colonel Flagg?"

* * *

"…Winchester, have you ever been---or are you now---a Communist or a Communist sympathizer?" MacAllister asked bluntly.

Major Winchester answered calmly, "I have never been, I am not now and I shall **_never_** be a Communist or a Communist sympathizer," he asserted.

"Now that everyone has given their statements," the G-2 officer turned to the other men, "Colonel Potter, Pierce, I'll ask y'all the same question. Have you ever been---or are you now---a Communist or a Communist sympathizer?"

"Absolutely not!" The older man replied indignantly.

"I have been called many things:" the captain answered more glibly, "wayward, a womanizer, a worm…but, I'm not a Communist…no matter what Flagg may think."

Having listened to their statements with sharp concentration and having watched their facial expressions and gestures with equal intensity, Colonel MacAllister made his decision, "Gentlemen, you're cleared of all implications. Excuse me a moment, I have something to take care of."

He moved to the phone and placed a call, "Red Dog. Scarecrow's chasing his tail again. This investigation is closed. Allegations are false. Right. Pull all the markers," he ordered and then asked, "And the other matter?" Listening to the report on the other end of the line, the Texan nodded. "All right then; continue as planned. Out."

Colonel MacAllister straightened and faced the other men. "Thank you for your cooperation. You are free to go. Do not speak to anyone about this, however."

"That would not be my first choice," Major Winchester replied, "Colonel, I have a question. Flagg threatened my family---especially my sister, Honoria---when he was trying to acquire my assistance in this charade. Is he likely to harm them, or her, now?"

MacAllister shook his head, "I've already contacted some people in Washington. If he tries to organize something, they'll know about it. They'll take protective measures---if it is necessary---which it won't be," he assured him.

"Well, I'm going back to the Swamp," Hawkeye Pierce announced. "Being convicted, and acquitted, of crimes I didn't even know about, is exhausting. This calls for a drink.

Anyone care to join me?"

* * *

Moving to her office in the medical storeroom, the younger MacAllister looked at her brother as he closed the door. "You and I need to have a little _talk_," she informed him. There was no playfulness in her voice.

Crockett saw his sister observing him, closely. Her arched eyebrow was demanding explanations. Grinning, he turned a chair around, straddled it and leaned his arms on the back support. "If you ask the right questions, I can give you the right answers, sister mine," he informed her.

"Oh, I reckon I have the right questions, brother mine," she retorted as she sat beside him. "Obviously, this was a serious matter---otherwise you wouldn't have bothered with it. But you didn't need me there. Why did you have me listen in?"

"I reckon you can answer that one," Crockett replied evenly.

"Actually, I can think of several reasons why you would want me there: as a calming factor so they wouldn't feel so intimidated; and if one of them relaxed enough, made a mistake and revealed something, you'd have me as a witness. You'd also have a witness if they claimed you forced a confession out of them. Any reasons I've missed?"

"You've covered most of them."

"Crockett, you know I'll back you **110** on _anything_! However, I don't like being used as bait...particularly with my friends."

"Understood. It was necessary, however."

"Understood. And," Sarabeth relented with a smile, "I know you've done more to help them than you should have. _Thank you_!" She told him sincerely.

And then, with a voice dripping in sweetness, she added, "Now, big brother...it may take Charles and Hawkeye awhile to think about this one...but I've been dealing with your devious mind for years. Just why were _you_ looking into their 201 files?"

Colonel MacAllister moved his chair around and sat properly. His demeanor became more professional. "Those won't the only files that Flagg had marked, Sarabeth. He also pulled the ones for you, Fannin, Kellye and Mary Louise Granbury."

"But those are people you've talked…" Eyes widening in surprise, the younger MacAllister blurted out, "Crockett, he's investigating you!"

The man nodded. "He didn't start looking at Granbury until after I called her from here; which means he has a spy in this camp. And I don't think it is Klinger."

"No, he wouldn't do that."

The Texas soldier watched as his sister ran through the possibilities in her mind. He saw her jaw tightened and the fury flash in her eyes as she realized who the informant had to be. "Leave it be, Sarabeth," he advised as she half-raised out of her chair in anger.

"No, I'm not about to leave it be! Not when she's put you in danger. You pick a fight with one MacAllister; you've picked a fight with us all. You know that. And, I'm going to kick her…."

"No, you're not. Not right now," her brother replied. He gently pushed her back into her seat. "Listen to me."

"Nope! There's not going to be enough left of her..."

"Listen to me!" Crockett MacAllister barked in sharp command. The woman glared at him defiantly but she forced her anger aside. Seeing that she had more control over her emotions, he continued, "I wasn't sure who his target was until this morning---when another call, from this outfit was made---after I had announced I was going to phone Granbury. The call I placed in Potter's office confirmed my suspicions."

"But why? Why did he decide to investigate you, big brother?"

"It's more like he's trying to find some leverage on me," the colonel explained. "I have information on a Chinese general who is a very severe threat to every American stationed here in Korea. Even though I have shared all the intelligence I have with his department, he thinks I know more than I'm telling."

"He does have an important mission because this man must be eliminated before too many lives are lost. But Flagg is a fanatic. He doesn't care who he hurts---just so long as he achieves his goal."

"And that is why, little sister, you and I have to pretend we know nothing. I want him focused on me; rather than have him trying to get information out of you, or Kellye."

The youngest MacAllister shook her head. "We can take care of ourselves."

"I'm sure y'all can. But I'm not going to give him the opportunity. Flagg doesn't know it yet, but, he's no longer the hunter." The soldier gave a wolfish grin, "He just became the prey."

"And what do you want me to do?" the woman asked.

"Keep your temper reined in, for one thing. He must not suspect that we're on to him. And neither must his spy. You hear me? You have to treat her the same way as you have in the past."

"Don't worry, big brother," she assured him. "I'll be so sweet; butter won't melt in my mouth. But, I'm warning you," Sarabeth MacAllister had a wicked smile. "If something happens to you, I'm going to stomp both of them so hard they'll need a spoon to scrape themselves off the ground!"

Grinning at her fierceness, her brother gave her a kiss. "Let's go eat. It's been a long time since I've eaten one of our sirloins."

* * *

Coming out of the nurse's office, the two Texans were happily reminiscing, "Remember the time that Milam was practicing throwing a loop and caught Grannie's old tom cat?"

"I sure do. There was so much squalling and bawling and cussing and clawing going on that we all thought he'd roped a bobcat!"

In the shadows, overhearing this remark, a woman shook her head in disgust. All they ever talked about was their childhood adventures. She had told the colonel they were just boring country bumpkins but he had said any information could be important. Quickly, she made her way to Corporal Klinger's office. She had another phone call to make.


	19. 19

NINETEEN

* * *

Nov 27th: 1230 hours

Inside the mess tent, the tables were placed end to end. Hospital linens were used as tablecloths. The food, instead of being served in the usual line, was placed on the table to be passed by hand. Everyone was waiting for the chance to begin their meal.

"...And help us remember, each day, to be thankful for our blessings. Amen." Father Mulcahy finished his prayer. He sat down as the people at the tables raised their heads.

Sarabeth MacAllister smiled at her two brothers affectionately. Crockett MacAllister was sitting on her left. Fannin MacAllister was sitting on her right. Shorter than his brother, only six foot in height, he had a slighter build and his red hair was curlier. He looked very much like his two siblings, however.

The three of them were still holding hands. Crockett looked at his sister's hand enclosed in his. "It's been a while since we've all held hands during a blessing, sister mine. I've forgotten how much I enjoy it."

"Me, too," the woman agreed.

"My family used to form a circle of hands during the prayer, too," Mulcahy commented. "It was a way of strengthening family unity."

"It was also a good time to play Mercy," Fannin MacAllister remarked.

"Oh no, you don't!" The youngest MacAllister tried to pull her hand away as her brother maintained his grip.

"Mercy? What's that?" Hawkeye Pierce stopped chewing on his beef ribs long enough to ask.

"Mercy," Fannin explained with his drawl, "is where you take your little sister's hand and you squeeze and squeeze the knuckles together until she hollers for mercy." He was demonstrating the technique as he talked. Sarabeth glared at him but she was not in any real pain.

"Mercy is also where you get to kick..." there was a thump under the table and the man jerked, "your bullying big brother until he quits!" There was another thump. Fannin released her hand. His sister flexed her fingers as her brother reached down to rub his shinbone.

"Damn it, Sarabeth. You kick harder than you used to!"

"It's the combat boots," she replied sweetly. "Can I do it some more?"

"No," the man answered. "I yield. What do you want?"

"I want you to smile for the rest of the time you're here. I'm tired of you frowning."

"I haven't been frowning," Fannin protested.

"He's right, Sarabeth," Crockett commented. "He hasn't been frowning."

Angrily, his sister swung around to glare at him. He grinned at her. "I'd call it glowering, myself. And I'm tired of it, too, little brother." He raised an eyebrow at Fannin in silent admonition.

"All right, I'll behave," the middle MacAllister conceeded. "But only if you'll pass that jar of pickled okra over this way."

* * *

With a small movement, Sarabeth, using her right hand, tapped Fannin on the arm. When he looked at her, she motioned with her eyes towards Crockett. They turned to watch him. Caught with a spoon heaping full of pickles halfway between the jar and his plate, he looked at them with distrust. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing, brother mine," the woman replied. Her expression was neutral but the corner of her mouth was beginning to twitch as she gazed at her oldest brother.

"Enjoying those bread and butter pickles, are you?" her other brother inquired pleasantly.

"I am." MacAllister was suspicious of their solicitude. He set the relish onto his plate and looked at them. "Why? I thought you didn't like this kind of pickle, little brother."

"I don't...fortunately."

"These aren't Mama's bread and butter pickles, are they?" asked Crockett who was trying to act unconcerned.

"Nope," Sarabeth added, helpfully, "Great-aunt Thelma made those."

"Great-aunt Thelma?" Fannin asked. His voice matched his sister's conversational tone, "Isn't she the one who keeps the rat poison right next to the pickling spices?"

"That's the one. Bless her heart; she's getting to where she can hardly see," the youngest MacAllister commented.

"Pity," Fannin noted. "Would you please pass the bread?'

"Certainly." Major Winchester, sitting across from Sarabeth, handed the platter to him. The doctor was watching the drama on their side of the table with avid curiosity.

Crockett MacAllister looked at the food on his tray. He looked at his brother and sister. And then, with deliberate motions, he ate the pickles. After he swallowed, he grinned at their teasing and remarked:

'_If---in this gherkin __a poison be lurking,__then---tomorrow, death will be a-smirking_.'

Crockett reached for the jar again.

His siblings struggled to maintain their composure. However, first one snicker and then another escaped from them until their laughter couldn't be contained any longer.

Lifting her glass to him, Sarabeth acknowledged Crockett's success, "The winner! And still champion! Darn it, I just knew I was going to get you on that one!" She grinned at her oldest brother who was still keeping a straight face. "All right, brother mine, I reckon I owe you double. What do you want?"

"A game of chess with you and a pair of silk stockings," the colonel informed her.

"The chess match is no problem," the lieutenant replied. "But, I don't reckon they make silk stockings in your size," she told him seriously.

Crockett was swallowing some of his drink when he heard her words. Sputtering, he turned away from the table and tried to keep from laughing.

Sarabeth slapped him on the back. "Is it something you ate, big brother?" she asked in mock concern.

"Gee, brother mine, I thought you had finally given up wearing high heels and dresses," Fannin contributed with barely contained amusement.

"Perhaps you would like to borrow some of my lipstick and eye shadow, as well?" his sister asked while she laughed.

With his shoulders shaking, Crockett surrendered to the merriment. The three of them, quietly laughing, were leaning on each other for support.

Finally, with a deep breath, the oldest MacAllister straightened in his seat. "You _definitely_ got me on that one, little sister," Crockett acknowledged with a wide grin. "What do you want?"

"A movie; one that isn't a war film. And one that doesn't have 300 splices in it."

"You've got it," he promised. "All right, proper decorum is now called for. We are at the supper table." Crockett ordered. Grinning, his siblings obeyed with only an occasional chirrup of laughter.


	20. 20

TWENTY

* * *

Nov. 27th: 1530 hours

"...Since there was so much rain falling, we knew we had to move the cattle out of the river bottom before they drowned in the floods. My dad, my three older brothers and the rest of the ranch hands were moving the main herd across the river. My mother, my younger brother and Sarabeth were in another pasture driving the other stock to higher ground, as well. That left my other brother, me and the oldest hand we had, Moss Elliot, to drive our old bull, Caesar, across the water."

"Now, Moss wasn't too happy about having to ford that muddy river. That water was already churning. And it was getting higher all the time. I don't reckon he could swim, either. Every time Houston and I tried to move Caesar into the water, Moss would say: _Let him eat some more, boys. We've got plenty of time_."

Fannin MacAllister was the center of attention. His name had been drawn for the 'Fireside Chat' and the topic was animals. Everyone, almost everyone anyway, was listening to his story with enjoyment.

"This went on for a while. The river water was rising even more and more and was swirling by faster and faster. It was starting to get dark, too. But Moss just let that bull eat all the grass he wanted. Finally, my dad left the herd and came back for us. He swam his mare over to our side of the river and asked what the problem was."

"And Moss replied: _Mr. Austin, this bull just don't want to swim no river. He __just wants to eat._"

"My dad cussed a bit and then he said: _Elliot, get this bull moving into that water, now! We came to _ferry_ Caesar, not to _graze_ him_!"

Fannin grinned at the moans from the audience. Sarabeth, laughing hard, applauded her brother. She looked at Major Winchester who was sitting beside her.

He shook his head in dismay. "The whole family's _afflicted,_" he confided to Lieutenant Kellye who was sitting on his left.

"I know," she replied as she laughed. "Isn't it _cow_-ful?"

"It's also_ cow_-tageous." The oldest Texas brother, sitting next to her, commented. He was smiling in delight at the dark-haired woman.

"So I have noticed," drolly, the major responded.

Father Mulcahy spoke, "Thank you, Captain. Now then, friends, Roman Catholics and other country men," he smiled at the people's reactions and drew another name from the selection box, "our next participant is...B J Hunnicutt. However, we're going to take a short intermission before B J comes to thrill us, while more coffee is brewed and popcorn is popped," he announced.

Sarabeth MacAllister checked her watch. "I might as well leave for my shift, now. That way, I won't have to interrupt anyone." She gathered her coat from beneath the bench. With quiet courtesy, both Major Winchester and Colonel MacAllister stood with her.

"I'll walk you over there," Fannin announced as he approached. Slipping into his leather flight jacket, he asked, "Ready, little sister?"

"Ready, big brother," she replied with a grin.

Hawkeye Pierce stopped them on their way out. "I'll be on duty in a little bit, Sarabeth. I want to hear B J's story, first."

"Why don't you just stay here, sir," the nurse suggested. "There are only two patients in post-op. I'll call you if I need you," she offered.

Pierce smiled at her. "Thanks. You can call me if there's a medical emergency, too," he smirked.

Scowling at him, Fannin led his sister outside.

* * *

"Are you all right?" he asked as they walked across the compound.

"Yes." She shrugged. "I'm just trying not to worry. That's a multilevel chess game he's playing---with some very dangerous players."

"I know," her brother confided in a low voice. "When I found out, it was all I could do to keep from going after Fl…the trouble maker," he corrected himself.

"Me, too," his sister admitted.

* * *

"Your limp is more pronounced, tonight," MacAllister observed as they neared the hospital building.

"It's just cold weather ache," Sarabeth answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "I bet we're going to have sleet by tomorrow night."

"I hope not. They ground the whirly-birds when there's ice. And I hate to just sit around. Of course, I wouldn't mind waiting around here. There are some pretty ladies here."

"That's why I have been trying to get you to visit me, brother mine," Sarabeth retorted.

Fannin grinned back at her, "So who's available, sister mine?"

"Houlihan and Baker are married. Smith's engaged. The rest are hoping for your undivided attention."

"Except Kellye," he noted with a grin.

She agreed with a laugh, "Yes, I reckon you'd best leave Kellye alone."

"I wonder if she has to stand on a ladder---just to kiss him."

"_Fannin_!" Sarabeth objected.

"OK! OK! I won't say anything else about those two. What about you, little sister? I've noticed that there are several men here who like to follow you with their eyes."

"It's still a semi-free country."

"Some of them are mighty free with their suggestions, too."

"They're harmless. And you had best not do anything to them!" she warned. "I have to live with these people."

"Crockett's already given me that lecture," Fannin informed her. He changed the subject. "What's the name of the blonde nurse, again? The one with the big..." He used gestures to finish his sentence.

The woman shook her head. "I should have known. That's Sherry Riggs. And I'm her relief, tonight."

"Then, this is my lucky night! I don't reckon she has a tent to herself, does she?"

"No. But you're welcome to use the ranch house," the younger MacAllister stated.

* * *

Fannin waited until the nurses had completed their medical rounds. He kissed his sister on the forehead before offering to escort Lieutenant Riggs to the mess tent to join the festivities there. Or would she prefer to go to a place...more private?

Sarabeth grinned at the two of them in friendly affection as they left together.


	21. 21

TWENTY ONE

* * *

Dec 2nd: 0730 hours

"What? Yes, I'm still holding. I've been holding for some time, now. Have you been able to patch a line through to Texas, yet? Well, why not?" Lieutenant MacAllister was sitting at the company clerk's desk. She had papers scattered across the desktop and was typing a report. She was also speaking on the phone.

Listening to the reply from the line operator, the woman asked in mock disbelief, "There's a war going on! Really? You're sitting in a building in Hawaii overlooking a white sandy beach while I'm over here in _Korea_, three miles from the front, slipping on ice patches and taking blood baths daily! And you're telling me there's a war going on! Fancy that."

"Why don't you just try that number again? No, I can't wait another twenty four hours. I have to get through, now! Listen you…all right...all right! I'll try again. In twenty four hours. Thanks, Corporal. You've been very helpful. 4077th, out." Angrily, slamming the phone set back onto its receiver, she let loose with an explosive outburst and dropped her head onto her arms.

"I don't recognize the language," Colonel Potter spoke from behind her, "but the words do not sound like anything you should be saying."

MacAllister whirled around in surprise, "Oh, sir, I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone was around. I apologize, sir." Her face was almost as red as her hair. "I do apologize, sir," she spoke with sincerity and hastily rubbed her hand across her eyes to remove any trace of tears.

"Come into my office, Lieutenant," he directed. "And sit down."

* * *

Closing the door, the commanding officer of the MASH unit returned to his desk. He observed the nurse who was sitting at attention before him. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"Sir, is there any way I can get an advance on my pay?" she asked.

"No. That's one of the things the Army specifically will not allow."

The Texan's shoulders drooped. "Then, I really have messed up," she admitted with a sigh. "Would you please excuse me, sir? I have to go tell Captain Pierce I've ruined everything."

"You are not dismissed, Lieutenant. Explain what you mean by that."

"You know how Captain Pierce has been concerned about raising enough money for the Tokyo trip? The reason I wasn't worried was because Crockett set up an account for me at the base bank there. That was my '_Plan B_'. If we couldn't get the money together, I was going to withdraw enough to cover expenses."

"But that thrice-damned Yankee Captain at the bank won't release my money to me!" MacAllister's anger was returning. "He says that I have to have a male guardian sign the paperwork. A male guardian! Like I'm eight years old! And, I can't ask either of my brothers to take care of it because…they're busy right now."

"And, I can't get a call out to home, either. I was going to ask Milam to sell a few head of my cattle, although the market's so depressed right now that we're barely making pennies on the pound. Or ask my daddy for a loan. But there's no stateside calls being allowed. We have to pay the rest of the money for the hotel by the 6th." She shrugged and added dispiritedly, "I've run out of options, Colonel."

Potter nodded in understanding. "Lieutenant, would you like for me to try?"

"Would you, sir?" she asked hopefully.

"If you will give me your account information, I'll ring up this banker. Perhaps a full bird colonel will have more success persuading him to release your funds."

* * *

Colonel Potter slammed the phone down in disgust. "Jackass!" he exclaimed in annoyance. MacAllister was right. Captain Cartier had the same upper crust Boston accent, and attitude, as Winchester; except snootier, if that was possible. And everyone had been working so hard on this project. He hated to disappoint them. Deep in thought, he sat, drumming his fingers on his desk top.

* * *

"One of the places we're going to have to go to visit is the bathhouse right near the base," Hawkeye Pierce commented. He was leaning back on his cot, thumbing through a magazine that had arrived in a plain brown wrapper.

"Pierce," Charles Winchester, looking up from the letter he was reading, observed, "You probably should take a bath before you leave for Tokyo. I'm sure everyone around you would approve. I know I would."

"Thanks, Charles," the doctor from Maine replied. "I'll give that suggestion all the consideration it is due." He edged closer to his tent mate's bed. "Think about it, Beej: there we are---sitting in a large tub, filled with hot sudsy water, drinking saki and having giggling geishas scrub our backs and hand feeding us sushi and onagi. What more could you ask for?"

B J Hunnicutt moved his red Jack to his black Queen and turned over another card before answering, "I don't know, Hawk. That doesn't sound like something I should be doing."

"Actually, Hunnicutt, that sounds like a very good suggestion." Winchester put down his correspondence. "After all, it's not like your wife will be waiting up for you. Right, Pierce?"

"Uh, yeah, right. Peg will be home in California; she certainly won't be in Tokyo," the captain agreed uneasily.

"Maybe, you're right, Charles. It might be fun, at that," the man with the mustache agreed. He had a mischievous grin, "We can have a 'boy's night out'. Let's do it, Hawkeye."

"Yeah. Sure. If we have time," he replied without his previous enthusiasm. A knock on their door distracted him. The company clerk called from outside the tent requesting permission to enter. "Saved by the corporal," Pierce whispered in relief.

Corporal Klinger hurried inside and moved closer to the heater in the middle of the tent. "Major, Colonel Potter would like to see you in his office, right away."

"Very well, Klinger," the senior officer began buttoning his coat. "Thank you for rescuing me from more of Pierce's pointless pontifications."

The man being discussed responded, "At least it's better than listening to Winchester's witless witticisms."

"Klinger, quick," Hunnicutt called out, "get out of range! The alliteration artillery has arrived."

The company clerk looked at all three men in confusion, "Whatever you say, sir. Better hurry, Major. The colonel seems anxious about something."

* * *

"Winchester, I have an assignment for you." Potter stared at the man thoughtfully before searching through the reports on his desk. He handed one sheet to the other officer. "Read this directive from HQ."

Major Winchester read the material and looked up at his commander with a puzzled expression, "This is merely a request for someone from this medical staff to give a series of lectures on field nursing techniques to the nurses at Tokyo General Hospital. Why are you giving this to me? As much as I would like to go to Tokyo, this is Major Houlihan's job, not mine."

The colonel pulled another sheet from his pile of papers. "And this one is from I-Corps insisting that the reports on patient follow-ups be completed and submitted. I know that Lieutenant MacAllister has been working diligently on them. Some of these records, however, need to be obtained directly from Tokyo General. Now, I could send Major Houlihan to take care of both of these problems; but I would rather send MacAllister to review the records since she is the one who has completed all the prior work."

"However, the lectures must be given by someone with the rank of Major or above. Since I can not send both of my charge nurses away at the same time, but I _can_ get a replacement surgeon..." Potter didn't finish his statement.

The major stiffened. "Are you suggesting that I give those lectures! That is a nurse's job. Not a skilled surgeon's!" He insisted disdainfully.

The colonel, with a slight rise of authority in his voice, continued, "Then, I'm sure you'll be able to handle it with out any problems, Winchester. I have another assignment for you, as well; an unofficial one." The man leaned forward and confided, "MacAllister has a financial problem that I am certain you can help her resolve…."

* * *

"Colonel, MacAllister can't go to Tokyo. She's only been here two months. She hasn't earned any extended leave yet." Major Houlihan reminded the commanding officer. She added, "The follow up reports for I-Corps do need to be completed. And I agree that my second-in-command is the logical choice. But some of my nurses will not see it that way."

"I understand that, Margaret," Potter replied. "And I apologize for the brouhaha that this is going to stir up. But, there is another reason why I need to send her to Tokyo…."

* * *

"Oh, _Max_..."

Corporal Klinger, sitting at his desk, flinched when he heard Major Winchester's tone. He turned to the officer. "Sir, if this is about that classical record that you requested..."

"Relax, Max. I have something far more suited to your talents," Winchester said. "What time should we be arriving in Tokyo?"

"Well, barring delays, you should be arriving there around 3pm."

"Excellent. While I am protesting the purpose for my trip to Tokyo, I see no reason why I can not enjoy myself while there." The officer from Massachusetts continued with his plans, "Now, don't mention any of this to any one, understand? I want this to be a surprise for the lieutenant."

"First, I want you to retrieve that package I placed in the colonel's safe the other day. Then, I want you to contact the Emperor Hotel in Tokyo and reserve two rooms for two nights. Both rooms should have a king sized bed and a bathtub."

"And will these be connecting rooms, Major?" Klinger asked with cautious interest.

"Indeed not! Next, I want you to contact the Royal Ballet House and the Yagishina Concert Hall and the..."

* * *

"Corporal," Lieutenant MacAllister greeted the company clerk, "I understand you're the one making all our arrangements for this morning. Do you know about what time we should be arriving?"

"Yes ma'am," he smiled at her. "I have your travel itinerary ready. Your chauffeur-driven transport truck will be arriving in approximately one hour. Major Winchester's replacement should be coming here on that same truck. From here, you will travel to scenic Kimpo where you will catch the shuttle flight to Seoul. From there, you will embark on the first military aircraft available to Tokyo---the Pearl of the Orient---and arrive around 3pm. And, if you are satisfied with these arrangements, please recommend Klinger's Asian Travel Agency to your friends and loved ones."

"Around three? Good." MacAllister didn't respond to his play acting, as she usually did. "Do we have any reports of expected fighting in the area?"

"None that we've been warned about. Is something wrong?" Klinger asked in concern.

"Nope. Everything's fine and dandy," she handed him a piece of paper. "Would you call the bank on the base and schedule an appointment with this man? Set it for around four this afternoon."

"Um-m-m, Lieutenant, I should warn you that Major Winchester has already made different plans for the two of you."

"He has, has he?" She raised an eyebrow. "Well, whatever he's got planned, will have to wait. This is important. And call Crockett's outfit for me, will you? I need to let him know where I'm going."

"Sure thing, lieutenant. You're going to like Tokyo," the clerk informed her while he opened the line.

"I doubt it," the woman answered softly.

* * *

"MacAllister is going to Tokyo! Can you believe that! That means Houlihan's going to cancel my leave request; I just know it! I won't be able to go to Seoul tomorrow---on my leave---which I earned; just so MacAllister and Winchester can spend some time together. That's so unfair!" Lieutenant Parnelli was complaining to her tent mate.

"They both have assignments to complete," Christy Baker remarked. "The major's going to be giving lectures all day. Sarabeth is going to have to search through all their records. And that's going to be a pain; I was stationed briefly at Tokyo General and their filing system is chaotic. I don't think they're going to have any time for anything else."

"I bet she'll find a way."

* * *

"Major, I didn't ask to go to Tokyo," Lieutenant MacAllister was speaking to her head nurse in the privacy of her quarters. "I tried to tell the colonel that I'm not the one he should be sending. And that this is going to cause problems."

"I know. However, the colonel's right. You're the most qualified for the job." The head nurse added, "And, it will give you the opportunity to take care of another matter at the same time."

"I'm grateful for that. But, what about Parnelli? She's supposed to leave for Seoul tomorrow."

"She'll simply have to wait until you return."

"Please reconsider that, Major," MacAllister spoke. "I realize that, with both of us leaving, y'all will be short-handed; however, there are no expected casualties, right now. And she has earned the time off. Everyone deserves a chance to get away from this place. Besides," she grinned, "if she's not here, you won't have to listen to her complaints."


	22. 22

TWENTY TWO

* * *

Dec. 2nd: 1400 hours

"Charles, this is nice!" MacAllister exclaimed. She and Winchester were standing inside her hotel room. "Look at the size of that bed! It's bigger than my whole tent."

"Look in here, as well," he showed her the porcelain tub in the bathing area.

"This is wonderful! But," she shook her head, "I can't afford this."

The man replied, "This is my treat, Sarabeth. I would not be enjoying the marvels of civilization, right now, if you were not required to be here."

"I didn't ask to come here. And, I didn't ask that you be made to accompany me."

"I am aware of that. But these accommodations will be infinitely better than anything that would be provided at the base."

"That's for sure and for certain." The woman looked around her and smiled, "Besides, we have to make sure this place is going to be good enough for Peg and Erin, right?"

"Absolutely." Charles Winchester smiled at the woman in return, "What you would like to do this afternoon?"

"Well, since we got here a little bit earlier than expected, I'd like to test out that bathtub; just to make sure Peg will like it," she said with an impish grin; but added more seriously, "At four, I have to be at the bank."

"We will both go to the bank," the officer assured her. "After that, however, I insist that we eat at the White Lotus. You simply must have the opportunity to experience the finest dining in the Orient."

"You're saying it's better than eating at the mess tent?" MacAllister teased.

"My dear, there is no comparison," the man replied firmly. "Since that is settled, I shall return in an hour and a half. Will that give you enough time to enjoy a good soaking?" Winchester asked.

"I should be sufficiently waterlogged by then, Charles," the woman grinned.

"I will see you then. In the mean time, I may have to test out my own bathtub; just to make certain Hunnicutt will also like it. Lock your door, and keep it locked," he directed before leaving her room.

Major Winchester stood outside her door until he heard the tumblers slide into place.

* * *

"What do you mean, you won't release my money to me!" Lieutenant MacAllister demanded angrily. She was sitting in front of the desk of Captain Cartier, base accountant. "My brother, Colonel MacAllister, set up this account especially so that I could write checks or withdraw money _any_ time I wanted to do so."

"The colonel was ill-advised." With obvious distaste, Cartier looked across his desk, and down his nose, at the woman. He continued his explanation in a superior tone, "It is bank policy to not release large amounts of money to any female. Past experience dictates that women are incapable of handling..."

"Incapable...!" MacAllister sputtered. She was prevented from saying anything else by Winchester's very firm grip on her arm. She glared at the man who was sitting beside her.

"Captain, I quite understand your philosophy," Major Winchester's accent closely matched the banker's own. "However, perhaps, you would consider relinquishing that money to me? I shall see that it is not squandered."

"Squandered...!" the woman objected. Again, she was restrained by a tightening grip. Resentfully, she subsided. Her expression was murderous, however.

"That is a feasible solution, Major. I am quite certain that you will be able to manage McAllen's finances."

"_MacAllister,_" came a dangerously soft-spoken correction from the woman.

"Now...as to the amount," Cartier reviewed his information. "McAllen wants to withdraw $275. That is almost the equivalent of three months of her military pay. An excessive sum, even if you are supervising her expenditures."

The medical officer glanced at the nurse beside him. She was restraining herself with difficulty. "You are quite correct," jovially, he agreed. "$275 isn't the right amount for her."

Cartier showed his approval with a parsimonious grin.

"Instead, I should like to withdraw...$300."

The banker was shocked. "$300! Surely you jest!"

"Very well, then. $400." The major looked at the lieutenant, silently asking if she had that much available. She nodded in confirmation. "$400, Captain," Winchester's tone was no longer friendly. "And I want it released to Lieutenant _MacAllister_, immediately."

"$400! You can't possibly be serious! Do you know what a woman would do with that kind of money?"

"Spend it, I assume," the man answered. "What seems to be the problem, now, Captain? You are satisfied with her identification, you know the amount requested and you have a male guardian who is willing to supervise her expenditures."

"I know. But $400! A woman can't be trusted with that large of an amount!"

"Captain Cartier, I want that money now!" Major Winchester ordered.

"All right," the accountant grumbled. "Sign here," indicating the location on the document, he handed a fountain pen to Winchester. The major signed his name with a flourish.

Leaving his office, Cartier returned a short time later. He counted the money, sealed it in an envelope and gave it to the other man. "$400. It's against my better judgment. However, if you insist, Major."

"I insist."

"And here is your copy of McAllen's withdrawal slip."

"_MacAllister_." The woman corrected him sweetly. She smiled at the banker. There were no kind wishes in her eyes. "_MacAllister,_" she repeated. "Remember the name, Captain. You **will** hear it again."

* * *

Following, from what he hoped was a safe distance behind her, Charles Winchester listened to Sarabeth MacAllister fume, "A woman's incapable of handling money! Can't be trusted with large amounts! And the name's MacAllister. Not McAllen. Damn Yankee! Thrice-damned Yankee! Who the blue blazes does he think he is!"

She stalked along the base road. "And it's my money! Not my daddy's. Not Crockett's. Mine! It's my share of the sweat and profits from the ranch. My long hours at the hospitals! That thrice-damned Yankee! How dare he!"

"Sarabeth, is it safe for a Yankee to approach you, yet?" Winchester called to her.

She spun around to look at him, "Depends on the Yankee." She forced some of her anger away as she waited for him to catch up with her. She was still livid, however.

Stopping to collect a double handful of small stones, the officer dropped them into the palm of her hand. "Here. I suspect these all have the same name on them. You may begin 'chunking' them, at will. Or at Daniel. Or at Michael. Or whatever his name might be. Preferably, not at me; however."

"You think this is funny, don't you?" MacAllister inquired in accusation. "How would you like it, if you were denied access to _your_ money?"

"I would not like it, at all. You have every right to be infuriated." He told her in all seriousness, "In fact, I would like to throw some of those stones, myself."

"At Will? Or at Daniel?" she asked with a hint of a smile.

"Or at Michael," he replied.

MacAllister gave him some of the rocks. "I am furious with Captain Cartier!" She announced as she threw all of her ammunition as hard as she could.

"As am I," Winchester's rocks hit the ground alongside hers. "Now then, Sarabeth," he began, conversationally, "shall we head for the White Lotus? I believe we both need a reprieve from the idiocies of Boston bankers."

"Just so long as he's not there." She warned, "I won't guarantee his life span if he calls me McAllen one more time…."

"I am quite certain, my dear, that we shall have a quiet, enjoyable evening with only the two of us."


	23. 23

TWENTY THREE

* * *

"The food here is pretty good, Charles," Lieutenant MacAllister commented and then added with a teasing grin, "except for the octopus. That was awful!"

"I do apologize for that." Smiling back at the woman, Major Winchester added, "Actually, I rather enjoy fresh cephalopod."

"Then you can have my share of that particular mollusk. I'm sticking to sirloins!" the Texan announced. "And forks. Whoever decided to eat rice with chopsticks was sadistic---and right-handed. These things are definitely not designed for left-handed people."

"You seemed to have adapted to them quite well."

"Yes, but you don't know how much food I dropped in my lap before I figured them out!" Sarabeth answered with another grin. She and Winchester had sampled many of the culinary offerings of the restaurant and were now enjoying some sweet cakes and tea. "This is a pretty place. I like the décor with all the silk embroidered panels, flower arrangements and the koi ponds everywhere. And the musicians are wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here."

"I knew you would like it. The White Lotus is one of my favorite eating establishments," the man responded happily. "And now, Sarabeth, I would like to give one more thing to you." Reaching into the jacket of his Class A uniform, Winchester pulled a small velvet box from a pocket. "For you, my dear," he said as he handed it to the woman.

Puzzled, and slightly hesitant, MacAllister opened the box. "Oh, my," she gasped. "Charles! This is _beautiful_!" She exclaimed as she removed a sapphire, emerald and diamond pendant attached to a golden chain, from the box to admire.

"It's a Texas bluebonnet for a Texas lady," the major announced, pleased with her reaction. He thought he saw a strange shadow of amusement flash across her face. It disappeared so quickly, he couldn't be certain that he had seen it, at all. With a dismissing shrug, Winchester continued, "I had this commissioned for you. There is quite a story behind that particular piece. Would you care to hear it?"

"Yes, please," MacAllister smiled back at him.

Reaching for the still steaming tea pot, the man poured them both a fresh cup of tea. "Before you arrived at the 4077th," Charles Winchester admitted, "I was miserable. _Nothing _in my life had ever prepared me for the deplorable medical conditions of that place."

"I am an exceptional thoracic surgeon and they expected me to perform 'meatball' surgery for hours, and hours, on end. In addition, along with the depravity of the living conditions, I had to put up with Pierce's sarcastic comments and infantile behavior and Hunnicutt's practical jokes…." He shuddered at the memories.

"Then you arrived. From your initial treatment of those soldiers, I could tell you were an excellent surgical nurse. I admired your professional expertise. Added to that, your hair color, your accent, even your persistent puns helped to draw my attention towards you."

"With you, Sarabeth, I felt so comfortable. I could talk to you about things that I could never mention to anyone, not even to Honoria. I actually began to enjoy myself. For the first time, I believed I might be actually able to endure my Korean experience."

"However, Margaret was so determined to have you transferred that I was convinced I would never see you again. So, I had this designed for you. I wanted a _Texas _nurse to have something to remember the _Yankee_ doctor who liked her smile."

"Unfortunately, it took longer than I had expected; the pendant arrived only two days ago. No one in Massachusetts seemed to know what a bluebonnet looked like. Our Republican Congressman refused to speak to your Democratic Congressman---not even as a personal favor to our family. Honoria finally had to contact the Speaker of the House, Sam Rayburn, himself, to get a picture of that flower to show to the jeweler."

"The chain has a safety latch that you operate like this," he demonstrated the procedure for her. "Do you like it?"

"It is very pretty. And, yes, I like it. So," the woman added softly, "this is only meant as a gesture of friendship?"

"Yes." Realizing that she was not as enthusiastic as he had hoped, Winchester added, "What's wrong, my dear?"

"Nothing really," the woman looked up at him and shrugged. "It's beautiful. And I really like it! It's just that; no one's ever bought me jewelry before. And with the hotel room, and now, this place…I can't help but wonder…."

"If there is an ulterior motive?" the man completed her sentence. "That was never my intention, Sarabeth." At her flushed face, he sighed, "Give me a scalpel and I can soar with expertise. Expect me to express myself in words and I stumble over every one. I was trying to show how deeply I appreciate, and value, your friendship. And to return to you some of the happiness I have received merely by being in your presence."

"My presence deserves the presentation of such a precious present?" She gave him a lopsided grin.

"Precisely," he smiled.

The Texan shook her head in amusement, "Charles, I will never need anything to help me remember you. I'll cherish it always." She fastened the gold chain around her neck. The pendant was sparkling against the dullness of her dress uniform. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome, Sarabeth."

* * *

"Why did you decide to become a surgeon instead of a financier like your father?" MacAllister asked. The two of them were still lingering at their table.

"Partially because my father insisted that I follow in his footsteps. But, mainly, because of a clock," Winchester admitted.

"A clock? As in: '_hickory, dickery dock'_?" the woman teased.

"Only without the mouse," the man answered. "On the mantel, in my study, is the pendulum clock that my mother's grandfather left to me." He smiled in remembrance. "As a boy, that clock always fascinated me. I used to stand there, for hours, peering beyond the front plate to watch the moving parts. I would wonder how all those gears could fit together so precisely every single time they met. I always wanted to take it apart and find out why. I never did, of course."

"Luckily, in school, I discovered that the workings of the human body were equally fascinating. And so, I decided to become a surgeon, rather than a clock repairman."

"A_ timely_ decision, don't you think?" MacAllister asked with a grin.

Winchester shook his head in fond exasperation, "I do have to _watch_ what I say around you."

"And, I have to _hand_ it to you…" Stopping suddenly, her eyes widening in alarm, the Texan abruptly stood. "Charles, stay here!" MacAllister ordered.

"Why? What's the matter?" he asked in concern.

"Stay here! Please!" the woman repeated. She hurried away from the table.

* * *

"I don't need a reservation! I'm here to find my sister. Now, get out of my way!" A red-haired man was speaking angrily to the maitre d' near the entrance of the Japanese restaurant.

Lieutenant MacAllister approached, "_Fannin_! What are you doing here!"

"Saving what's left of your reputation, sister mine!" he answered.

"How?" The young woman demanded, "By acting like a horse's rear end?"

Grabbing her wrist, he replied, "I'm taking you back where you belong."

"You're going to drag me all the way to Texas? Not too likely, brother mine. Let go of me!" Sarabeth hissed through clenched teeth. She was pulling back against him while trying to make him loosen his grip.

Her brother had the superior strength, however. Despite her resistance, he forcibly dragged her towards the door. "Damn it, Fannin! You're hurting me. Let go!" His sister protested.

"_Let her go_!" A cold, furious voice was heard. Major Winchester stepped towards them. "That is an order, mister."

Fannin MacAllister's grin could not be called friendly, "Well, now, Mr. Boston; himself. Just the thrice-damned Yankee I wanted to see."

"I gave you an order, Captain," Winchester replied. "Release the lieutenant, immediately!

"Sure thing,_ Major_. I'd rather mop up the floor with you, any day," MacAllister loosened his grip and the woman jerked her arm away. She tried to move between the two men at the same time that her brother reached for the lapels of the medical officer's jacket. The three of them stumbled into a cloth screen. There was a sound of tearing fabric and shattering pottery.

"Sarabeth! Get out of the way!" The older MacAllister sibling spoke angrily.

"Fannin Ross! You idiot! Think!" His sister called out. Speaking in softer tones, she pleaded, "_Bubba...please_...don't do this."

Very slowly, her brother straightened and moved back. Breathing heavily, both men glared at the other. "Step outside, Winchester," the Texan directed. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Indeed we do, MacAllister," the surgeon stated. He carefully examined the woman for injuries. Angrily, he stared at the other man, "Indeed we do."

Still glowering at each other, the men marched out of the foyer.

Sarabeth followed them to the door. "Fannin. Charles. Don't. Please," she begged them as she placed herself between the two men once again.

"Stay inside," her brother ordered, "This is between the two of us."

The younger MacAllister had a stubborn expression on her face. "I'm coming out with you---unless y'all promise to behave yourselves!" she declared.

"It's OK, little sister," the helicopter pilot was now calmer. "I promise I won't hit him."

"And I shall try to behave in a civilized manner," the medical officer remarked acerbically.

* * *

Outside the entranceway, the two men turned to face each other. Straightening his jacket, Charles Winchester spoke first, "Fannin MacAllister, listen to me **VERY** carefully. I am a skilled surgeon. I am hesitant to risk ruining my hands for...fisticuffs. However, if you **EVER** grab Sarabeth like that again, I'll...I'll...mop up the floor with you! Do you understand me!"

The captain studied the other officer. He could tell from Winchester's stance that the man didn't even have rudimentary knowledge of fighting. MacAllister could also tell that he meant every word he said.

The Texan slowly relaxed and nodded his approval, "Good for you, Winchester." He leaned against the wall. "Tell me something, Major. What would you do if you found out that _your_ sister was sharing a hotel room with some man?"

"I would be very angry, at first," the man with the New England accent conceded. "After that, however, I would want to determine if I had my facts straight."

"Ah, but I did check with the hotel. There's no MacAllister listed. Only a C. E. Winchester."

"The reservations were made in my name; for two rooms. My room is across the hall and several doors down from her room. How dare you make that assumption!"

"MacAllisters take care of their own!" Fannin replied. His anger was flaring again, "Our dad's too far away. Crockett's too busy, right now. So that leaves me. I have to protect our little sister!" the redheaded man declared. He regained control of his emotions with an effort. "She is very special to us."

"She is, indeed, a very special lady. However…." Winchester stopped as the door to the restaurant was opened and the young woman being discussed walked outside.

"Go back in," her brother directed. "We really aren't going to kill each other." He grinned at the other man, "at least; not yet, anyway."

"Um. Well-l-l, I can't." She was embarrassed. "We've been told to leave this restaurant and never come back. I had to pay for our supper---and for the screen---and for a large flower vase. Also, the MPs are on the way."

"How delightful," was Charles Winchester's comment. He helped the woman into her coat. "I'd suggest that we vacate the premises...except, we came by taxi."

"This way," the older MacAllister led them to a darkened side street. "My jeep's over here."

As they were driving down the road, a vehicle carrying military police passed them, heading in the opposite direction. It stopped in front of the White Lotus.


	24. 24

TWENTY FOUR

* * *

Dec. 2nd: 2100 hours

"I'm sorry, little sister. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was mad. And I wasn't thinking," Fannin MacAllister apologized. He gently touched the red marks that were still showing on her arm.

"That's for sure and for certain!" Sarabeth remarked with mild vexation. "Big brother, I'm not the only one you should apologize to."

"You're right," the man admitted. He straightened his shoulders and faced the older officer. "Major, I apologize. I should not have called you out and caused you harm. And I should have trusted my sister. I'm sorry. I apologize to both of y'all for my idiotic actions; and for my imbecilic words; and for my stupidity, in general."

"While I don't agree with your methods," the physician replied, "I do understand your motives. I will, however, expect you to remember what I said," Winchester spoke firmly.

"I will remember that," the Texan grinned. "And I will make it right with the restaurant. The next time you are in Tokyo, the White Lotus is going to welcome you with open arms."

"And just how are you going to manage that?" the younger MacAllister asked. "They were pretty emphatic about us never darkening their doorstep again."

"I don't know." Fannin shrugged, "I'll finagle something."

"Make sure you do." Sarabeth embraced her brother and smiled at him with forgiveness. "Oh well. At least, you've provided me with some new experiences: I've never been thrown out of a restaurant before and I've never had to run away from the police before, either."

"Neither have I," Charles Winchester admitted. "And I don't believe I shall write home about this episode, either."

The woman smiled at him, "No, I don't reckon I'll tell Mama about this one. However, _Fannin_," with an arched eyebrow, Sarabeth looked at her sibling and said, sternly, "I would like to know what brought all this on."

The three were sitting at a table in themess hall. Despite the nurse's objections, the doctor had insisted that they return to the base hospital to take x-rays of her wrist. As she had insisted, there was no lasting damage.

With a sigh, the older Texan stood. He gathered a coffee pitcher from a side table and refilled their cups as he began his explanation, "Crockett had asked me to stop by the 4077th to deliver that movie reel he had promised you, and to give Kellye that pair of stockings you sent to him."

Despite her severe expression, Sarabeth grinned, "I am so glad they were for her! I was beginning to wonder about our big brother."

"So was I," Fannin replied. "Anyway, I had radioed in, asking Kellye to meet me at the helicopter pad. Instead, that shy, little nurse, Linda, and Monica Parnelli were there. Linda explained that Kellye was on duty but that she would relay any messages. I gave her the packages. She started back down the hill but Parnelli stayed behind. And, Lordy, did she give me an earful! All kinds of spiteful comments and nasty insinuations about what y'all were doing here."

"You should have considered the source, brother mine." Sarabeth remarked.

"I didn't really believe her…until I talked to Klinger. He confirmed that you were in Tokyo and he gave me the name of the hotel you were staying at. I called but you weren't listed on the register."

"That's because Charles made…," the woman started to explain.

"I know that---now," her brother replied. "I didn't know that---then. So, I caught the first flight out. When I arrived this afternoon, I started hunting for you. Y'all weren't here at the base; or at the hotel. I called all of the clubs and restaurants until I found one that had a table reserved for Winchester. And then I came to get you."

"Fannin," Sarabeth set down her mug, "were you working on any other assignments for Crockett when you left?"

"I was supposed to report back to him after I dropped off the packages. I did call to let him know that I had to get to Tokyo right away."

"Then, you best call his outfit again to let him know everything's all right, before he comes after both of us."

"Too late," the older MacAllister replied. He pulled out a message he had received while the medical officers were waiting for the radiograph results and read it out loud: "_What the hell is going on, pilot? If the littlest one needs help, holler and I'll come. If you're just AWOL, I'm fixing to nail your hide to the barn wall!_"

"Sounds like our big brother is a wee bit _miffed_ at you," the woman observed.

Fannin grinned, "Being a middle brother is so much fun. I get to annoy both my little sister and my big brother."

"Yes, but since all I'd do is chunk rocks at you or take a broom to you; and since he can have you locked in leg irons, you might want to not annoy Crockett near as much as you annoy me," Sarabeth admonished and then sighed, "Brother mine, what am I going to do with you?"

He shrugged, "I reckon you'll visit me in the stockade, sister mine."

"Yes, I am looking forward to visiting my hotheaded brother in Leavenworth."

"The colonel seems like a reasonable man. Perhaps," Major Winchester interrupted, "there is some way to rectify the situation so that trips to..._Kansas_...will not be necessary."

"Sounds like a good idea." Sarabeth grinned at him. She turned to her brother. "Here's what we're going to do. I'll call Crocket and tell him everything's all right. I'm also going to tell him it's my turn to pin your ears back and that you'll be there tomorrow after I get through with you."

Captain MacAllister groaned. He recognized that particular tone, "What _do_ you have planned for me, little sister?"

"Nothing too strenuous, big brother. I just want you to be at the base bank at 0800 hours, tomorrow, when I close my account. There's someone there I want you to meet," her eyes were sparkling with mischief. "Meanwhile, since the PX is still open; you get a couple of those mystery books that Crockett likes to read. And tomorrow, you take those books; stop by the 4077th to pick up my last two rib eyes, and that tin of fudge on my desk to give to him---along with a very sincere apology. You hear me, big brother?"

"I hear you," the Texan agreed. "But I'm not looking forward to it."

"Sarabeth, are Yankees invited to this introduction?" Winchester asked in amusement.

"Absolutely. I was going to ask if you would come with us. I reckon Captain Cartier won't even let me in his office without you shepherding me. I know your lectures start at 9 am but I reckon we should be finished before then."

The major smiled, "I am looking forward to conducting business with him again."

"Yes, we are definitely going to conduct some business with him. And now, Charles, I know you need to finish preparing your notes; and I still have some unfinished business with my brother. So, if you will excuse us, I'll meet you back at the hotel."

"You will stop by to let me know that you have arrived without further harm, won't you?" the man asked.

"We sure will." Fannin answered for her.

* * *

Standing, with her hands on her hips, Sarabeth stared at her sibling.

""What?" He asked innocently.

"Don't ever do that again," she lifted an eyebrow at him in warning, "you hear me?'

"Nope. I'm always going to come to your rescue, little sister," the man commented and grinned, "But, I will make sure you need rescuing first," he pledged. Seeing the necklace that was glistening against the brown colors of her Class A uniform, he reached to look at it better. "Very pretty. What's this?"

"That, brother mine," she answered, "is a Texas bluebonnet." A strange shadow of amusement flashed across his face and disappeared quickly. She grinned at him, "You can say what you were thinking."

"All right. Sister mine, I have seen many a bluebonnet...but I have never seen one quite like that."

"Neither have I," Sarabeth admitted. "Something must have gotten lost in the translation. But Charles thinks it's one. And don't you dare tell him differently!"


	25. 25

TWENTY FIVE

* * *

Dec. 3rd: 0800 hours

The next morning, Captain MacAllister was waiting for his sister and Major Winchester outside the military bank. "All right, sister mine, what do I have to do?"

"Absolutely nothing, brother mine," she replied innocently. "All you have to do is listen to the wonderful conversation I'm going to have. By the way, you do have your pocketknife and whetstone, don't you?"

"You know I always carry them with me."

"Just checking. Have them handy. But, Fannin, don't you **_dare_** even think about using that knife! You hear me?"

"I hear you," her sibling promised. "This is getting more interesting by the moment."

"Oh, it's going to get better, I assure you."

* * *

Inside the bank, the three were finally ushered into Captain Cartier's office. He greeted the major warmly, nodded to the captain and didn't acknowledge the lieutenant, at all. "Well, Major, I'm glad to see you this morning. You are, no doubt, returning McAllen's money that you so foolishly withdrew."

"Not exactly," Charles Winchester replied.

"No? Then why are you here?"

"Actually, Captain," the redheaded lieutenant answered sweetly, "the name is _MacAllister._ And I'm here to make another withdrawal."

"Another withdrawal?" The banker questioned in disbelief. "This is preposterous! Major Winchester, the only reason I allowed you to withdraw any funds for this woman was because you guaranteed that she would not spend it frivolously."

"I assure you, Captain, the lieutenant did not spend it frivolously. And, now, since I am due at the hospital in thirty minutes, I want you to prepare the necessary paperwork for my signature. Thereby enabling the lieutenant to have the amount she wants withdrawn from her account."

"Whoa up a minute," Fannin MacAllister interrupted. His accent had suddenly become more pronounced. "Am I to understand that y'all are talking about Sarabeth's money? And that someone else has to take responsibility of it for her?"

"That's right," the younger MacAllister informed him. "It seems that the captain here doesn't think women are capable of handling large amounts of money."

"Fancy that." Fannin reached into a pant pocket and pulled out his knife and whetstone. Seeing the banker staring at him, he grinned, "Don't mind me. I'm just sharpening my knife."

Eyeing the pocket knife nervously, Cartier spoke to Winchester, "I really do not advise removing any additional funds."

"Hey, Major," the older MacAllister interrupted again, "have I ever mentioned that Sarabeth takes care of the books for the Rocking Double A Ranch?"

"No, Captain. I don't believe you have," the medical officer remarked.

"She takes care of all our financial accounts: the cattle sales, the oil wells, all of the market investments, our shares in that gold mine in the Alaskan territory." As he talked, Fannin was running the blade down the whetstone, continuously, "She's right smart with money, my sister."

"Gold mine? Oil wells?" The bank officer questioned, "You have oil wells?"

"Of course, sir. Don't you know that every Texan has several oil wells in his back yard?" Sarabeth asked.

"And we have a large family with some _very_ big back yards," Fannin added. "By the way, Captain, do you have a piece of paper?"

"A piece of paper?" Cartier asked in confusion.

"Yes, just a sheet of paper. One of those papers where a man has to sign for the woman to get her money will do nicely."

With trepidation, Captain Cartier handed the paper to the major. Solemnly, Winchester walked over to Sarabeth's brother and handed it to him.

"Thank you kindly," the man drawled. With extreme care, he tested the sharpness of the blade. It cut through the paper with ease. But he shook his head in disgust. "It still doesn't have an edge to it. You know, once a knife catches on a rib---it's never quite the same, after that."

"It...it seems to be sharp enough, already," Cartier stuttered nervously.

"Nope. I like it _real_ sharp when I'm skinning polecats." The sound of the blade sliding against the whetstone filled the small room again.

"Polecats?" The accountant asked.

"Skunks, Captain," Sarabeth MacAllister explained in a honeyed, helpful tone of voice. "They are small, smelly critters whose hides get nailed to the barn wall."

Charles Winchester had to turn his head away. He was having difficulty maintaining a straight face. The two Texans were experiencing no such difficulty, however.

"But-t-t, there aren't any skunks in here."

"I'm not so sure about that," Fannin slit the knife blade through the paper a second time. He had a predator's smile on his face. "Perfect! This is how I like my knives. Sharp enough to cut through the bone." He returned his whetstone to his pocket. His knife was folded but remained in his hand. "Now, I believe y'all were discussing the release of my sister's money to my sister."

"Well, as I told the major, Captain McAllen, I just..."

"_MacAllister,_" two drawls quickly corrected him.

"Oh. Yes; of course. It is the bank policy to not authorize the release of large sums of money to any woman."

Sniffing the air, Fannin asked, "Do y'all smell a polecat?"

"However," Captain Cartier quickly amended his words, "with two men who are willing to be responsible for her financial interests, I see no problem with allowing...say $25 more...to be withdrawn."

"Oh, that won't do, sir," the woman spoke. "I want more than that."

"How much more?" The man asked in increased exasperation.

The youngest MacAllister smiled at the banker. Seeing the dangerous glint in her eyes, Winchester flinched. He never wanted her to get that angry at him.

"I want to withdraw all of the money in my account."

"ALL OF IT!" Cartier squeaked in protest.

"Yes. All of it," Fannin remarked as he took a step toward the financier. The banker's eyes bulged and his face paled. Stopping beside his sibling, MacAllister put his hand on her shoulder. "Back home in Texas, we give our women what they want. It makes our lives easier. So, why don't you make your life easier, here in Tokyo, by giving my sister _her_ money? NOW!"

"But...but...that's a large amount of money!"

"Now, Captain," Fannin MacAllister insisted.

"I do hope you haven't squandered it, Captain Cartier," Major Winchester cut in. He couldn't resist participating in this drama.

"No, it is quite safe," they were assured.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir. Now, I want $225 in cash and I want the rest of my money in a bank draft made out to me...Sarabeth MacAllister. _MacAllister_. Got that? And I want it marked for deposit at the military bank in Seoul. And I want it here within the next five minutes."

"I can't possibly get it ready..."

The woman looked up at her older brother and inquired, "Are you sure that knife is sharp enough?"

"Well, sister mine, I reckon it won't hurt to sharpen it a bit more."

"Five minutes," Cartier asserted. Watching the three apprehensively, he scurried out of his office.

* * *

Once the three officers stepped outside the bank, Sarabeth MacAllister, her eyes dancing with merriment, glanced at her brother. His eyes were sparkling with mischief, too. The corners of their mouths began to quiver. Snickering, as they gazed at each other, the Texans gave up trying to contain their laughter. Charles Winchester's shoulders were also shaking in amusement.

"Bravo," he applauded. "That was a virtuoso performance from both of you."

"Yes, we were good, weren't we?" She grinned at him. "And you gave a great supporting performance, yourself: _I do hope you haven't squandered it,_" the woman repeated and laughed again. "Thank you!"

She turned to her brother and hugged him, tightly. "Fannin, you were wonderful! Thanks, big brother."

"Any time, little sister. Any time. That was fun."

"I hate to break this up," Major Winchester looked at his watch, "however, speaking of time..."

"Right. Fannin, you'll be leaving before we will. During your stop-over in Seoul, will you deposit this for me? Set it up like Crockett had this one---so that y'all can draw from it, too---if y'all ever need some cash. But also make sure that, when I want money, I won't have to have _anyone's_ signature on it except mine."

"Consider it done," the Texan swept his sister up in a strong embrace. "Please be careful out there! I need you around to keep me out of trouble."

"I'll do my best," the woman kissed her brother and hugged him again. "You best be careful, too. You never know when I'll have another skunk I need skinning."

Fannin laughed some more. "If you ever need me, you just holler. I'll come running." Reluctantly, he turned her loose. And held out his hand to the other officer, "Major, you're all right...for a _Yankee_. I reckon I'm leaving my sister in good hands."

Winchester shook his hand. Before he could speak, Sarabeth answered for him, "Of course, I'm in good hands; he _is_ an excellent surgeon, you know."


	26. 26

TWENTY SIX

* * *

Dec 3rd: 1230 hours

Inside the Records Room at Tokyo General Hospital, Lieutenant MacAllister was annoyed. She started another search through a stack of medical reports. "It's a good thing I'm not in charge of these files! If I were, someone would be listening to me pitch a fit!" She was speaking out loud to herself as she hunted through another box of folders. "This is the most disorganized, disordered disaster I have ever..."

"Are you_ dis_-gusted? Very_ dis_-stressing," her tirade was cut short by the amused voice of Major Winchester. He had arrived at the doorway and had overheard her comments.

"I don't care to_ dis_-cuss it," she told him with a grin. "_Cuss_ it? Most definitely!"

The man from Boston smiled at her words. "I have finished imparting my knowledge to the nurses during this morning's session," he announced. "Would you care to visit the mess hall? I doubt that they will be serving octopus, however."

"And I was so looking forward to it," the woman laughed. "Let's _dis_-perse!"

* * *

Later that afternoon, Major Winchester was waiting in the Doctor's Lounge for Lieutenant MacAllister to arrive. He was enjoying a game of cribbage with another physician when a knock at the door announced her arrival. Abandoning the game, with apologies, he hurried to meet the nurse who was standing outside the room.

"Howdy, Major," she smiled at him. "How did your lectures go?

"It is difficult to describe and discuss the type of injuries we have encountered with anyone who has never been assigned to a MASH unit. None the less, I do think I was successful in conveying the methods of treatment in a combat area."

"Did you...? Never mind," the woman decided to withdraw her question.

"Did I remember what you told me earlier? That '_most nurses were not_ _stupid little twits like Parnelli_'; and that '_they learned better if talked to...not down to_'? Yes, I remembered and I did try to follow your advice."

"Thanks for remembering," she informed him with a grin.

"How about you, my dear?" he responded. "Are you finished with your fact finding mission?"

"Yes. At least; as much as I could uncover from that mess. There are still some patient records that I can't find documentation that they ever even arrived here. But, I did find most of them."

"Then we can begin our tour of Tokyo."

The lieutenant was doubtful. "I'm not real sure I want to tour this town. There are too many Japanese soldiers walking around."

"I will be right beside you, Sarabeth," Winchester promised. "You have nothing to be frightened of.

The Texan shook her head. "You don't understand, Charles. I'm not afraid of them. I'm afraid of what I would do to them! Bowie was tortured and murdered by those bas…soldiers," she spoke harshly. "It took a long time for my brother to die and he was in terrible agony the whole time. That's something I can NEVER forget and I can **NEVER** forgive. And I really don't want to be around them."

"Very well then; we'll skip the sight seeing. However, I do know of a couple of stores near the base that specialize in carved wood and ivory. I have found several exquisite pieces there. You can shop for those Christmas presents you said you'd like to purchase. "And," Charles Winchester added with a grin, "in the process, with all of the gifts you are hoping to find for your family and for the people at the 4077th, you can make Captain Cartier very unhappy."

"Now, that's something I can enjoy doing!" the woman remarked. "Let's go. We're burning daylight."

"Just remember, my dear," the man cautioned. "I am to make certain that you do not _squander_ your money," he teased.

She raised an eyebrow in warning. "You had best watch it, mister," she advised with a mischievous grin. "You are within shin-kicking distance, you know."

* * *

"What time do we need to leave for the ballet, tonight?" Sarabeth MacAllister asked. Returning to their hotel, she and Charles Winchester were climbing the stairs to their floor. Both were carrying armloads full of packages.

"Since we will need to find a taxi; no later than 7:30 pm."

The lieutenant checked her watch. "Great! I have time for another soaking in that tub," Sarabeth exclaimed gleefully. "I still haven't decided if it will be suitable for Peg Hunnicutt!"

* * *

"I really enjoyed that performance, Charles! Thank you for taking me to see it. It makes me wish I had spent my life practicing pirouettes instead of chasing cattle." The red-haired woman told him as she whirled around in imitation of a ballerina. She stumbled and then grinned at him. "Except that, I never have been able to balance on my tippy-toes for very long."

Winchester, observing her antics, smiled at her. He poured them both a drink. He carried the glasses over to MacAllister who was standing near his window. She accepted the drink he offered. Standing there together, sipping their brandy, the two stared at the lights of the city. Content, the woman said, "This is a very good ending to a very good evening."

"Indeed," the man agreed.

"Being in Tokyo suits you, Charles. You're more relaxed here. And I've seen you smile more today than I have ever seen you do in Korea."

"Tokyo General Hospital," the medical officer mused. He thought again of the white brick walls, immaculate lawns, wrought iron fences; and more importantly, of those modern, well equipped operating rooms. "Now you can see why I would prefer to be stationed here; rather than at the tin barn we call a hospital."

"It's not bad," the nurse acknowledged. "One thing about metal barns, though...they do catch your a-_tin_-tion."

"Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless," the man shook his head in fond exasperation and the woman laughed.

"Seriously, though, Charles; you've been able to save more lives back in Korea, than you could ever save here, or even in Boston, for that matter," MacAllister announced. "I'll probably get Klinger's section eight for saying this; however, I'll be glad to get back. I know we have more rats than bandages; but almost every day, we're helping someone. Americans, Australians, Koreans, Chinese; men, women and children---we're doing a good job mending broken and battered bodies. And I'm proud to be a part of that."

"Actually," Charles Winchester was surprised to hear his own admission, "so am I."


	27. 27

TWENTY SEVEN

* * *

Dec. 4th: 1130 hours

"Mailing the small parts of the jeep was easy. I just put them in a box and marked them perishable goods. Sending the seats home was a little harder. I had to crate them and mark them as..." The driver of the supply truck was telling his passengers about his escapades. He had been talking, steadily, ever since they had left Kimpo.

Major Winchester looked skyward in appeal. There seemed to be no relief forthcoming, however. The driver didn't seem to mind that no one was answering him. He talked on anyway.

Earlier, Lieutenant MacAllister had tried to carry on a conversation with the man. Deciding that he was happier delivering his soliloquy, she was now sleepily watching the scenery. Abruptly, the woman sat upright. Eyes wide with alarm, she turned so that she could look out the rear window of the truck. Watching their back trail intently, the Texan didn't say anything. Her worried expression told Winchester all he cared to know, however.

Finally, relaxing her vigilant observation, she shuddered, "And this used to be such a good neighborhood."

* * *

As they moved into the hospital compound, the driver whistled in surprise. Wounded soldiers were scattered everywhere in front of the hospital building. More were being unloaded off an ambulance bus.

"Look at all those men!" He exclaimed. "And all that blood!"

Dryly, Major Winchester remarked, "Yes. These are the perishable goods _we_ send home." He looked at the woman beside him and sighed, "It appears we've been thrown into purgatory once again, my dear."

"That's for sure and for certain," Sarabeth agreed sadly.

Climbing down from the truck, they hurried to tend to the injured.

Father Mulcahy was kneeling beside a man who was writhing in pain, as Major Houlihan tightened the pressure bandage on the young soldier's leg. Spying the arriving medical personnel, he exclaimed enthusiastically, "Thank God, you're here!"

Concentrating on her task, the blonde-haired woman barely lifted her head to look at the returning officers. "Doctor, they need you in the OR, immediately!"

The surgeon glanced at the men around him. There were several who required medical attention without delay. "I can take care of triage, sir," the charge nurse stated with confidence. Winchester nodded and headed for the tin roofed building.

Houlihan added, "MacAllister, set your gear somewhere and help me with this."

"In a minute, ma'am," the lieutenant replied. The major, glaring at her, started to speak but the redheaded woman quickly explained, "I have to speak to the colonel---about camp security."

Seeing her serious expression, the major relented, "Hurry then."

"Sergeant," MacAllister turned to the officer of the camp guards, "thanks for your help. We really appreciate it. But I need y'all to go back on sentry duty." After his acknowledgement of her instructions, she ran towards the operating room.

The driver of the supply truck tried to catch the senior nurse's attention as she directed the medics from the bus on the arrangement of stretchers for treatment, "Major, I'll unload your supplies and be on my way."

Houlihan shook her head, "You're not going anywhere, buster. You just signed up for hospital duty."

"But, I don't know anything about doctoring..." he protested.

"I'll give you a crash course. Grab that end of the litter," the woman directed.

* * *

Holding a surgical mask over her face, Lieutenant MacAllister leaned through the doorway to the operating room. The place was in a state of organized chaos. The surgeons and nurses were working with desperate determination. Corpsmen were moving laden stretchers in and out of the OR. A private, who normally worked in supplies, was boiling instruments. Another was carrying x-rays for the doctors to review. And a fifth surgical table was being set up in the already crowded room.

"Welcome back, Sarabeth," Captain Hunnicutt called to her. "Pick a table. Any table."

"I can't, sir," she answered. "Colonel Potter, I must speak to you, right now."

* * *

Fortunately, the senior surgeon was able to leave his patient. After giving directives to his surgical nurse, the commanding officer followed the woman into the outer hallway. "All right, lieutenant. What's the matter?"

"Colonel, seven or eight Chinese soldiers, with rifles and machine guns, crossed the road behind our truck about three-quarters of a mile back. They started to follow us but then turned east towards the hills. I put our guards back on duty; one in the compound and the other three along the perimeter."

"I'll notify HQ," Potter announced calmly even though the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. "How's triage coming? How many people do we have out there?"

"Fourteen, sir. Major Houlihan and I can handle them," MacAllister replied.

"Get them sorted and get inside, as soon as you can," the officer ordered. "Keep quiet about our visitors. And, lieutenant," he asked with a small grin, "did you take care of that little matter?"

Despite her own concern, Sarabeth MacAllister smiled in return. "All bills paid in full, sir. Thank you!" At his dismissal, the nurse paused long enough to pick up a couple of surgical kits and some units of plasma before returning to the bloody scene outside.

* * *

Inside his office, waiting for his call to go through, Colonel Potter allowed himself to feel the nervousness he had been suppressing. Four rifles, and a few pistols, in the whole camp, against a squad of machine guns; and he had patients, doctors, nurses, enlisted men and civilians to protect.

He picked up the photograph of his wife of so many years and looked at her smiling face. "Well, Mildred dear, here we go again. Wish me luck."


	28. 28

TWENTY EIGHT

* * *

"Kellye, that's the last of them." Major Houlihan announced as she and MacAllister helped an injured Marine stumble into the pre-op area. They eased the man onto an examination table. "Goldman," she called to a passing medic, "Bring an ice pack for his ankle." The head nurse smiled at the young man, "Don't you worry, soldier. You're going to be all right."

Quickly surveying the area, the woman was satisfied with the treatment preparations that were being performed. Seeing one nurse in particular, Margaret Houlihan called to her, "Baker, you're on sick leave. What are you doing out of bed?"

The woman, wearing a surgical mask to prevent spreading infection, was pale and trembling. But her voice was strong and determined, "I can still take vitals and mark charts, Major."

Houlihan studied her. Her nurses were responding to the overwhelming arrival of injured men admirably. She permitted herself a rare smile of approval. "Don't over exert yourself. And, I want you back in bed when we've cleared out pre-op."

"MacAllister, go scrub," turning to her second-in-command, Margaret Houlihan ordered, "Take over as rover in the OR. Keep an eye on Captain Browne. He's a competent surgeon but he's having trouble adjusting to the pace." She continued, "Have Riggs report to post-op #1; I'm going to help in here and then go to post-op #2. And, welcome back," she added.

* * *

Just look at this mess!" The red-haired woman spoke in a teasing voice as she entered the hectic operating room again, "I can't leave y'all alone for a minute!"

"We're remodeling...this is the 'Impossible Conditions' motif," Captain Pierce remarked. He didn't look up from his patient. "So, what do you think?"

"I'm trying not to," Sarabeth spoke wryly.

"…How was Tokyo?" "...Did you see the Emperor's Palace?" "..Did you get any shopping done?" Despite the seriousness of their situation, several questions were thrown her way.

Working rapidly, MacAllister replaced sterilized instruments on their trays. She moved from table to table to take care of immediate needs. She also answered their questions. "I didn't do any sight seeing. I was too busy searching through dusty files and sneezing to do anything else. I did get to eat at a fancy restaurant, though. Other than that, there wasn't much to write home about."

A chortle of laughter, abruptly cut off, was heard from Major Winchester who was entering the room. Without further comment, he moved to the injured man who had been placed on his table.

Coming to Pierce's side, MacAllister wiped the Chief Surgeon's sweaty forehead. "Thanks. Just a shave today," the doctor told her. "I'll skip the hair cut."

"Looks like you're going to have to skip the shave, too," she observed as another solider on a stretcher was carried into the room.

"I'd rather skip this whole day," the man grumbled.

"I'd like to skip this, too. Sarabeth, I need another unit of whole blood; B-." Doctor Hunnicutt called to her.

The circulating nurse moved quickly to hang the unit for him. "B-, sir. Anything else?"

"Yes. I need a scratch; right between my shoulder blades. Lower; more to my left; stop; right there; hard." the man directed as MacAllister used a retractor to attend to his itching. "That's got it. What restaurant did you eat at?"

"The White Lotus."

Hawkeye Pierce whistled in appreciation, "That's fancy, all right. I hear the waiter have waiters."

Continuing down the line of tables, stopping by the new surgeon, the lieutenant introduced herself. She asked, "Everything all right, sir?"

"Yes. I guess," the visiting captain responded. "I'm not used to having back to back surgeries like this, however."

Observing his efforts, the Texan asked, "Doctor, since you're just working on muscle repair, would you like for me to finish this? There's a cot out in the hall where you can rest for a few minutes."

The tired surgeon looked up in relief. "Sure. Great. If, that's all right?" he asked the Chief Surgeon.

"Go," Pierce instructed, "never pass up an opportunity to grab a few winks. Grab some for me. So, what did you eat?"

"Campbell, you can take a break, too," MacAllister informed Browne's nurse while preparing some sutures.

The woman smiled in gratitude. "Thanks, I need to stretch my legs." She quickly followed the doctor out of the OR.

Focused on her surgical embroidery, the nurse was silent for a few minutes before replying, "Well, since I'd had never eaten Japanese food before, Major Winchester suggested we share a tray with samples of almost everything from their menu."

"They brought out this platter," she indicated the size before returning to her repairs. "And, on a bed of rice were all these…_things_. Some I recognized; shrimp and oysters. But the rest were things that I had never considered to be food items: purple seaweed, shark fins, fried eels and boiled octopus."

"The major had insisted the octopus was delicious, so I decided to try it. I'm looking at this pinkish gray tentacle with suckers on it and I'm having second thoughts about eating it...but I decided to go ahead. So, I got a small piece and I start chewing."

"And I'm chewing...and chewing...and chewing...and chewing!" The young woman laughed as she told her tale. "And I'm thinking to myself: _I will never be able to swallow this_! But I kept working at it."

"Now, Major Winchester is sitting across the table and he's watching all of this. He's too much of a gentleman to say anything. But, I know that, inside, he's laughing at me."

"You do have an amazing repertoire of facial expressions," the doctor contributed in an amused tone.

"Finally, I managed to swallow that bite. I looked down and that darned octopus seemed to have grown even bigger! I swear; that tentacle was now hanging over the sides of my plate! And y'all know that I feel obligated to eat everything on my plate; so, with _great_ reluctance, I started to stab another piece. Thankfully, the major took pity on me and removed that eight armed nightmare from my plate. I tried the shark and the eel meat. I could handle that; even the seaweed. But octopus? No way!"

"I'm inclined to agree with you, lieutenant. I'd rather fish with it than eat it," the commanding officer remarked as he returned to the operating room. He surveyed his overworked staff. "It's going to be a long night, people. Let's continue doing what we do best: providing the '_best care anywhere_'."

Silently, he added, "And I hope we don't need any of that care, ourselves."

* * *

His call to Regimental headquarters had been frustrating. They had doubted his source and therefore ignored his information. Because Colonel MacAllister had requested that he be advised of any unusual activity around the camp, Potter had called his outfit, as well. That call had been more successful. Captain Sterling had informed the MASH officer that they already knew about the break through the lines. And that a patrol had already been dispatched to intercept those soldiers. He would be called, immediately, if the situation took a more dangerous turn. In the meantime, they were to sit tight and keep sharp eyes out.

Reluctantly, Colonel Potter had pulled some of the enlisted men from hospital duties to act as additional look outs. Resolutely, he now stepped up to his table and called for the next patient waiting for treatment to bring brought in. "It's going to be a long, night," the senior surgeon repeated to himself.


	29. 29

TWENTY NINE

* * *

Dec. 7th: 0800 hours

Inside her tent, Lieutenant Kellye Tanakhamara was writing a letter:

_Hi Crockett,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written you sooner. But, we've been very busy here._

_I just got back from our Pearl Harbor memorial service. The colonel had announced that, instead of the usual Sunday sermon today, he and Father Mulcahy would be presenting a special flag raising ceremony at dawn for anyone who cared to attend._

_This is the first day, in several days, that we haven't had the OR up and going. Everyone needed the rest_. _So_,_ I was surprised at how many people showed up._

_The wind was really blowing and we were huddled together against the cold waiting until Colonel Potter arrived. He said that_ _today was the day he always made certain that the American flag was flying as the sun rose. _

_We all snapped to attention and saluted as he raised the flag to the top of the pole. _"_A date that will live in infamy,"_ (Franklin Roosevelt) _the colonel commented, sadly. "I lost several good friends that day. And many more in the terrible days that followed."_

_Father Mulcahy gave a brief talk on remembering the ones who had died and the sacrifices that were made, and how we needed to keep those lessons in our hearts. _

_As taps was being played, and we watched the 'Stars and Stripes' unfurl in the morning breeze; I saw that Sarabeth had tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn't the only one crying, either_.

_I remember that day very vividly. We had left Honolulu early that morning to go inland to visit some of my mother's cousins. We never saw any of the Japanese planes but we heard all of the explosions and saw those thick, black clouds of smoke._

_We hurried back to see what had happened; and to help where we could. Because my mother was a nurse's aide at the hospital, we were allowed on the base. It was really horrible: blood and bodies everywhere, men with terrible burns and lost limbs; so much pain and suffering. Similar to what we see here, except, on a much larger scale._

_It made a big impression on a 15 year old. I decided right then and there to become a nurse so that I could help ease some of that suffering. Of course, as a child, I had always bandaged every stray animal that my brother brought home---whether it needed it, or not. Seeing all that devastation was the deciding factor, however._

_Anyway, on to other things: I did receive your package the other day. Thank you very much! The stockings fit perfectly. When I showed Sarabeth the part in your note where you said you reckoned that I would look better in these stockings than you would---she laughed and laughed._

_We also got the movie that you sent. Colonel Potter said we didn't have to wait until Sarabeth returned from Tokyo to see it. So we set up the projector in the mess tent and watched it that night. I had never seen 'Stagecoach' before. It was a good movie! Since it was a western; Hawkeye Pierce tried to make fun of it while the film was going on but the colonel, and others, quickly made him be quiet._

_We're going to be watching it again this afternoon. I'm looking forward to it. _

_I wish I had gotten the chance to speak with Fannin the other day when he delivered your packages. I like him. You're right; he does have a lot of anger and sadness bottled up inside him. But he seemed to be having fun at our Thanksgiving meal; and at the 'fireside chat' with Sherry Riggs. _

_Monica Parnelli managed to talk to him, though. I have no idea what she said but he certainly left in a hurry. Klinger said he looked very angry. I hope everything turned out all right._

_Parnelli was mad because she thought her two-day pass to Seoul was going to be cancelled. She was surprised (so were the rest of us) when Major Houlihan announced that her leave request was still in effect. It didn't take her long to pack and requisition a jeep to Kimpo. She came back telling everyone about her all-night partying. She also came back complaining that she had to ride back in a supply truck with an armed guard. She used, having to wait for a truck to become available, as her excuse for arriving four hours later than she was supposed to. She still got assigned to bed pan duty._

_Guess what? According to rumor, Colonel Blankenship, after working a_ _very long OR session here, has decided that every MASH outfit should have a minimum of twelve nurses. So, we're supposed to get two additional nurses at the first of the year. That is good news—if it is true. We can certainly use the extra hands._

_I guess that's all for now. Please keep writing to me. And, please, take care of yourself! _

_Kellye

* * *

_

Inside his tent, Major Charles Winchester was also writing a letter:

_My Dear Honoria,_

_I apologize for not writing sooner. For the past few days, we have received so many wounded soldiers and civilians that I have hardly had time to rest, let alone compose a message._

_As you have certainly noticed; this letter is written on stationery from Tokyo General Hospital. Unfortunately, I have not been transferred back there. I was only in Tokyo to give a series of lectures on medial field treatment. Sarabeth was also there, looking up patient records. _

_We didn't have time to participate in many of the cultural activities that are available in that wonderful city. We did eat at the White Lotus that first night we arrived. As usual, the food was superb and the atmosphere was excellent. And, relaxing and talking with her, in a totally different environment than this hideous acreage of Hades, was very enjoyable._

_While we were there, I gave Sarabeth her bluebonnet necklace. As she opened that box, it was difficult to tell which was sparkling more...the necklace or her eyes. Both were lovely. That Texas lady was very pleased with her gift. You did an excellent job, sweet sister. And I thank you for all your efforts on my behalf._

_The next afternoon, after we had finished with our assignments, we spent most of our time in the small shops located near the base. Sarabeth was searching for special gifts to send to her family and items to give to the 4077th personnel. She put a great deal of thought...and a great deal of her heart...into each purchase. _

_For example: for her mother, she selected an ivory carving of a woman standing beneath an arched trellis that was covered with tiny roses and nesting birds. The craftsmanship of that piece was superb! You could almost smell those flowers and hear the birds singing. _

_For Colonel Potter, she chose a figure of a soldier on a war horse. Again, the details on the carving were amazing. _

_For B J Hunnicutt, she found a wooden carving of a man reading a book to a small child. I liked the way she smiled when she examined that figurine. _

_For her brother, Crockett, she purchased one of those puzzle boxes; the kind that can be opened only if you know the proper sequence of wooden panels to move. After a few attempts, Sarabeth opened the box. She laughed and said that her brother would probably have it solved by the time he unwrapped it from the paper. _

_Although she found something for everyone on her list, she had not planned to get anything for herself. I did persuade her to buy the small ivory statue of a dog guarding over a baby that she admired. I would have bought it for her, but she refused to allow me to spend any additional money on her. Sarabeth can be very stubborn (or hard-headed as she would say) sometimes._

_She selected a beautiful silk kimono for you._ _It is sapphire blue and is layered with gold and green embroidered peacock feathers. I purchased it and had it shipped home. I am hoping that you receive it soon. It is exquisite! You are going to look so lovely in that robe...even lovelier than you already are._

_At that same shop, I also found one that looked like it was created especially for Sarabeth. It's a delicate, off-white covering with incredible needlework: starting at the hem, dark green sea waves, outlined in gold thread, surge upward; a spray of pale green foam splashes across the front and left shoulder. I told her that I was giving to Mother. Actually, however, I intend to give it to her for Christmas. _

_And now, Honoria, you must not read this portion of my letter to Mother._

_It was a wonderful relief to be away from the artillery and rats. While I expect such __ill-fated occurrences in Korea, I had not anticipated on having to deal with accountants and skunks, in Tokyo, however. It all started at the White Lotus...

* * *

Dec 7th: 1300 hours_

Inside the mess tent, the medical personnel were watching the much anticipated film again. Opening the door, moving inside, and quickly closing the door behind her, a ward nurse approached the surgeon on duty.

"I'm sorry, sir," Lieutenant MacAllister whispered to Captain Hunnicutt, "But, you're needed in post-op, right away."

The doctor followed the woman to the hospital building. He was confused when, instead of entering the recovery ward, the Texan led him to the company clerk's office. "What's going on?" He demanded.

"Sorry, sir, I lied to you," Sarabeth MacAllister admitted with a grin. "One of Crockett's men is on the line. He reports that Peg and Erin have arrived, safe and sound, in Tokyo. They're checking into the hotel, right now. I thought you might like to speak to them."

"They're HERE! They're actually here!"

"Sh-h-h-h! You're not supposed to know anything about this, remember!" The man's delighted shout was quickly quieted by both Klinger and MacAllister's shushing admonishments.

"You better hurry, sir," Corporal Klinger advised. "I can only hold this line for about five minutes longer." He held the handset to the man.

Nearly dropping the phone in his excitement, B J spoke into the receiver, "Hello? Peg? Peg, darling, are you there?..."

* * *

When he returned to watch the rest of the movie, even when it seemed that all would surely be lost, and there was no hope of rescue for the characters on the screen, B J Hunnicutt sat in the darkness with the happiest of smiles on his face. 


	30. 30

THIRTY

* * *

Dec. 9th: 0630 hours

"Knock. Knock," a voice called over the sound of the wind.

Inside her tent, Sarabeth MacAllister recognized the man's voice and grinned to herself. She walked to her door, "Who's there?"

"I'll be a..." was the response.

"I'll be a what?"

"I'll be a popsicle, if you don't open this door."

"Come on in, B J," Sarabeth told him with a laugh.

Captain Hunnicutt hastily stepped inside her quarters as a blast of cold air followed him. Hurriedly pulling the door shut, he walked over to the heater and began rubbing his hands together. The small black and white terrier curled up next to the heater gave him a disgusted snort before settling down again.

The woman laughed, "I reckon you've just been cussed out."

"I think so, too," Hunnicutt grinned. "Sorry about that, boy. Good morning, Sarabeth," he smiled at her.

"It is a good morning---only if you're a polar bear," the woman retorted. Standing beside him, she studied his appearance carefully. "Look at you! Freshly showered and shaved; wearing your Class A's. Someone might think you're actually going somewhere, today."

The man was now smiling broadly. "I am _so_ excited about seeing Peg and Erin! I can't believe this day is finally here! And I want to thank you for making it possible, Sarabeth. You have saved my life!" He gave the woman a quick, brotherly hug. "Thanks for all your hard work in getting my girls here. I can't possibly pay you and Hawk back for all of this!"

"B J," her expression was tender, "that look on your face, when you talk about Peg and Erin, is all the payment I'll ever want," MacAllister stated. Her own smile grew as she watched his happiness.

"I also wanted to thank you for letting Hawkeye think it's still a secret. He's having so much fun planning 'our' R&R and trying to keep me from guessing what's really going on."

"Judging from the way Hawkeye was acting this morning, he's even more excited about this than you are," the Texan noted.

Hunnicutt chuckled, "He is definitely driving Charles crazy. He can't wait for us to leave!"

"So, when are you leaving? Not that I'm that anxious," Sarabeth added with a grin.

"Our truck should be here within the hour. I wanted to stop by and see if you thought I looked all right."

"You look great! Peg is a very lucky lady."

"Actually, I'm the lucky one. I have a wonderful wife and daughter; and some wonderful friends!"

Still smiling at his enthusiasm, Sarabeth listened to the approaching footsteps. "Come on in, Charles," she called. Major Winchester quickly entered. He also moved towards the heater and held his hands over the flames as he tried to absorb some of its warmth. "Howdy," the Texan greeted her second visitor, "Welcome to the MacAllister Ranch…Arctic Headquarters."

"I fail to understand how anyone can be so cheerful on a morning when you can get frost bite inside your tent," Winchester grumbled.

"Why are you complaining?" B J asked. "It's a balmy 25 degrees out there."

"It's so nice out there, I was planning to put on my shorts and go sunbathing in a little while," the woman contributed.

"My apologies, my dear. I didn't realize you enjoyed hypothermia."

"Doesn't everyone?"

With a slight smile and an exasperated shake of his head, Major Winchester removed a leather carrying case from inside his coat. "Hunnicutt, I am loaning you my camera. I have included several rolls of film, as well. Try not to get sand and salt water in it while you're frolicking on the beach in this heat wave."

A muffled snort of laughter was heard from the young woman.

"Thanks!" Smiling at the unexpected generosity, Captain Hunnicutt accepted the camera. "I was hoping to get some new pictures of Peg and Erin while we're in Tokyo."

"And, Hunnicutt..." the major paused. "B J...enjoy these next five days with your lady and your daughter."

"I will. Believe me, I will," the man shook Winchester's hand with enthusiasm. "Thank you, Charles."

"Just remember, this is supposed to be a surprise---you know nothing and you suspect nothing," Sarabeth informed him. "Now, everything's been taken care of. Hawkeye has all the receipts. He's going to give them to you before he leaves. Just in case there's been some mix-up, we want you to have them available."

"And, he's going to give you an envelope with something extra from all the senior officers. Buy something pretty for Peg. Get Erin a toy. Maybe buy your self a new mustache comb," she smiled at him. "Just spend it on frivolous things."

"I can't take that. You've already paid for the hotel and the plane tickets and everything!"

"You have to take it, B J," the woman insisted. She added, with a mischievous grin, "We've already _raised_ _the_ _dough_. And you can't _leaven_ us out in the cold like this."

"I suppose it is the _yeast_ I can do."

* * *

After Hunnicutt had left the tent, MacAllister smiled at Winchester. "Charles, that was very generous of you. And, that was a very nice thing to say."

"Yes." He looked down at her and grinned, "Are you ready to brave the Arctic winds to eat an inedible breakfast, my dear? Or would you prefer to change into your shorts, first?"

Sarabeth laughed, "Since you're in a hurry to be poisoned, I reckon I'll just wear what I've got on." She reached for her jacket. "What's with all the jocularity---as Father Mulcahy would say?"

As the man helped her with her coat, he replied, "In less than an hour, both Pierce and Hunnicutt will be leaving for Tokyo. I can not wait for their truck to arrive!"

"Charles, Hawkeye is heading back tomorrow morning."

"I know. But he will be gone for hours! I will actually have the Swamp to myself. I can have it cleaned. And I can play whatever music I want! Just think; solitude and serenity will be mine in less than an hour!"


	31. 31

THIRTY ONE

* * *

Dec. 9th: 0900 hours

Major Winchester's expectations of peace and quiet didn't last very long. The truck carrying Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt had almost reached the Kimpo base, when the ambulances and helicopters began arriving at the 4077th.

Three hours later, the transport truck deposited a sack of mail, and the replacement surgeon, Captain Browne, at their doorstep. The mail was hauled to the company clerk's office for later sorting and the surgeon was quickly guided to the area for OR scrubbing.

* * *

"Klinger," Colonel Potter spoke to his company clerk as the man helped to carry another litter into the operating room, "did you reach the 8063rd?"

"I did, Colonel," Corporal Klinger reported. "They're overrun, too. They said they had planned to send their overflow to us. It's the same story at the 4068th."

"What about the 8055th? Or the 1034th?" Potter asked. He was moving to the next table as his patient was removed to the recovery room.

He and Major Winchester were working two tables at a time---directing a surgical nurse on the procedures at one table---while they operated on a patient at their own location. Captain Browne, even with Lieutenant MacAllister's assistance, was struggling to keep up the pace at his own table. They had been working this way for hours already. Pre-op was filled with wounded men still waiting to be treated.

"I can't locate the 1034th. The 8055th CO said they might be able to take some of the wounded. He wants to talk to you," the company clerk replied.

"Rig up a line in here, Klinger. I can't leave the OR."

"Right away, sir. I'll…"

A hissed curse from the senior nurse interrupted him. "Hernandez, hand me a cardiac clamp," she ordered as a stream of arterial blood squirted up her surgical apron and across her mask and face. "I need a surgeon here...fast!"

"Coming," Major Winchester replied. "Tie that, Smith. And pack the area until I get back." He moved to the other operating table. The two nurses shifted positions to give him more room.

"There was a piece of shrapnel lodged next to the aorta," Major Houlihan informed the doctor as she maintained her grip on the clamp. "When I removed it, the bleeding started. The fragment must have been acting like the fabled finger-in-the-dike."

The surgeon looked into the chest cavity as Lieutenant Parnelli, the circulating nurse for this session, helped him put on fresh gloves. "Hernandez, prepare several sutures. We're going to have to work fast," Winchester instructed. "Ready?"

"Yes, sir," both nurses answered.

Winchester held out his hand. A suture set was quickly placed in it. "Very well; let's see how nimble our fingers are, shall we?"

* * *

"Colonel, I have Captain Pierce on the line," the company clerk announced. "He wants to tell you about the Hunnicutts."

"Did everyone arrive safely?" Father Mulcahy asked. He was delivering cups of broth and bologna sandwiches to those in the operating room who could take a minute to rest.

"Yes, sir, they did. The captain sounds very cheerful about it."

"Put it on the speaker, Klinger," the commanding officer directed. "We could all use some cheer."

"Klinger? Colonel Potter? Can you hear me?" Hawkeye Pierce's voice echoed oddly over the operating room speakers.

"We can hear you, Pierce. Go ahead," said the colonel. He took a bite from the sandwich that was being held for him and remembered how much he disliked bologna. He chewed hungrily, any way. "How are the Hunnicutts?"

"Just great! B J kept asking why we were heading to into town, instead of stopping at the base. I told him I just wanted to see the hotel that Charles raves about so much—when he isn't raving about..." The man's voice faded before returning, "…even though B J was insisting we really shouldn't stop here."

"Inside the lobby, there was this absolutely gorgeous woman, with blonde hair, standing there. Believe me; Peg is even more beautiful than any of her pictures! And B J was just standing there; like he was frozen in place. He just seemed to stop breathing. I had to push him towards to her." Everyone could hear the excitement in the caller's voice, "Then, this tremendous grin started growing across his face. And he grabbed Peg up in a hug so tight; I swear I heard her ribs creak."

"Erin was holding onto an older woman's hand. She brought her towards B J. But Erin was shy. Peg told her: 'This is your daddy. Go tell him hello.' After a moment's hesitation, she came toddling over to him and held out her arms for him to pick her up. He swung her up and around and both of them began to laugh."

"Everyone in the hotel lobby began to clap and cheer. It was great! This was the best surprise ever! I didn't think we'd be able to keep it a secret, but we did. And it gets better. It seems that Mrs. Granbury, and some of the other officer's wives here, have decided to host a reception for B J and Peg. They've set up this huge banquet for us and we're even going to have champagne…"

"Pierce," Colonel Potter interrupted, "You tell Hunnicutt and his missus to enjoy their time together. And you get your keister on the first plane leaving Tokyo in the morning! We need you here. 4077th, out," he signaled to Klinger to end the call. A party—with champagne—after these long hours in the operating room, that's all his people needed to hear.

He hadn't cut off that message quickly enough, however. The nurse acting as rover grumbled, "How come they get buckets of champagne when all we get are buckets of blood?"

"We're just lucky, I guess," Lieutenant MacAllister commented before adding, "Parnelli, we need more 4-0 silk and gauze over here."

* * *

The last case was finally delivered to the recovery room. Three extremely tired surgeons were sitting on the benches in their changing room. Accompanying them, the camp priest was leaning against a wall. They were all exhausted.

"Assembly line surgery," Major Winchester commented as he struggled to remove his scrub top. "I must remember to thank Colonel Baldwin for sending me here and for turning a skilled surgeon into a factory worker."

"Don't forget to thank the North Koreans, and the Chinese, too." Potter replied. He was rubbing the small of his back. "I don't know what hurts more; my feet or my back."

"I've already thanked God that it's finally over," Mulcahy observed.

"Thank Him for me, too. If I see another perforated bowel," Captain Browne yawned, "I'm going to scream. I should have listened to my father and become a garbage collector."

Lieutenant MacAllister was standing in the nurse's changing area, smoothing her hair back into its braid. Overhearing their remarks, she limped over to the men's side of the room and knocked. Hearing permission to enter, she pushed aside the curtain and spoke to the men, "Colonel, Klinger had a chance to sort out the mail. You have a package from Mrs. Potter. It feels like a couple of books. They're waiting for you in your tent."

"Bless the dear girl," the commander remarked. He tossed his bloody operating room gear in a nearby hamper.

MacAllister added, "And, gentlemen, since the Swamp was commandeered for a post-op ward, your cots have been set up in the alcove next to the OR. May I suggest all of y'all get some sleep?"

"That's a very good suggestion," Potter replied. "But, I need to speak to Major Houlihan, first."

"She's in post-op #2. I'll get her, sir."

"Send someone to get her, lieutenant," the senior doctor directed. "And sit down. You need to stay off that ankle."

* * *

"Major Houlihan, your nurses worked very hard during this OR session. They did a good job. Tell them I said that," Colonel Potter informed the woman.

The head nurse smiled, "Thank you, sir. I will." Along with the rest of the medical personnel, she was showing signs of fatigue. There were still flecks of dried blood on her face.

The commanding officer continued, "I'm revising the surgeon's duty schedule. I'll be on-call for the first post-op shift. Browne can pull the second shift duty. Winchester has the third. Pierce, when he arrives, can take over after that."

"Yes, sir," Houlihan nodded. "Colonel, Lieutenant MacAllister and I can handle everything else that needs to be done around here. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Forcing himself to his feet, the colonel said, "That advice sounds better every time I hear it. I believe I'll take the hint and take a cat nap, too. Good night, all."

MacAllister, quipped, "_Dog-_tired, are you, sir?"

"_Sheep_-ishly, I have to admit that," the man grinned in return.

"Sounds like you're using _horse _sense to me," Father Mulcahy contributed.

With a laugh, Potter added, "Of course. I'm no _bird_ brain."

"This place is a _zoo_," observed Charles Winchester dryly.

"More like a _barnyard,_" the Texan laughed.

Major Houlihan shook her head in exasperation. "Come on, MacAllister. We have work to do."

"Yes, ma'am," the red-haired nurse followed her senior officer. She paused long enough to call over her shoulder, "Ya'll be _cow_-ful in the hallway. We've got some unpacked boxes stored out there and I don't want y'all to have any _ox_-idents."

Rolling his eyes at her, Charles Winchester commented, "Never fear, lieutenant, I shall be exceedingly _careful_," he replied.

Laughing, the woman left the area.

Colonel Potter was smiling, "Her merriment does help, doesn't it?"

"I agree. A real spirit _rooster,_" the priest offered.


	32. 32

THIRTY TWO

* * *

Walking briskly against the cold, plodding over the planks of wood that had been laid down over the icy, slushy mud around the camp, Corporal Klinger approached Lieutenant MacAllister's tent. Having only had two hours of sleep himself, he knew she probably hadn't had much sleep, either. He hated to do this. Knocking at her door, he called to her, "Lieutenant? Wake up, ma'am."

At her sleepy reply, he entered her quarters. "I'm sorry," he told the woman who was reaching for her robe. "But the colonel's going to take that Canadian soldier back into the operating room. And, since you're listed as on-call surgical nurse on the duty roster…"

The nurse nodded in understanding, "I'll be right there," she yawned.

After relaying his message, the company clerk headed back to his cot. At least MacAllister hadn't thrown a boot at him like Baker, the scheduled anesthetist, had done when he had woken her up.

* * *

Groggily plodding across the compound, Corporal Klinger approached Lieutenant MacAllister's darkened tent, again. He was so tired. Moving in a somnambulistic state, he opened the door and paused just inside the structure, "Lieutenant? Lieutenant MacAllister, wake up!"

A sudden growl and the popping of teeth near his leg made him yell and leap back in fear. Corporal Klinger was now wide awake.

A light was switched on in the tent.

"Ernie! It's all right. Come here! That's a good boy, come here." Sarabeth MacAllister, straightening from her crouched position, patted the dog and looked at the company clerk. "Next time, Klinger, I suggest you knock. Did he bite you?" she asked as she fastened her bathrobe around her pajamas.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head, "I don't think so. I'm sorry to disturb you, again, but there's a really strange call for you in my office."

Instantly, the lieutenant went into action. She pulled on her boots and reached for her jacket. "Let's go," she ordered. "Tell me about it on the way."

"...After I finally managed to find the phone in my sleep," the corporal was explaining, "and after I identified this unit, a man said: '_This is an emergency message. I must speak to Yellow Rose, immediately._' At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. But then I remembered, the last time Colonel MacAllister was here, he told me that if I ever received a call asking for _Yellow Rose_, I was to notify you, immediately; even if you were in surgery."

* * *

At the company clerk's desk, the lieutenant grabbed up the receiver and spoke into it, "Yellow Rose." The Texan listened to the voice on the other end and replied, "4/21/36. Siesta."

The corporal watched her curiously as she took up a pen, turned over one of his typed reports and began writing down the words dictated to her. "Got it. Message understood. Out." Frowning, the woman hung up the receiver.

"Lieutenant? What's the matter? Are you all right?" Klinger asked in concern.

"I'm OK." She read the other side of her paper before folding it. "Looks like I owe you this week's laundry requisition, Klinger." Sarabeth placed the note in her robe pocket. "Let me examine that bite. And then we have work to do."

"I didn't know that you were with Army Intelligence."

"I'm not. I just have a brother who is. Anyway, didn't you just learn that you should_ let sleeping dogs lie_?" MacAllister's smile was friendly but her eyes held a warning against further questions.


	33. 33

THIRTY THREE

* * *

December 10th: 0730 hours

"Gentlemen, I apologize for having to wake y'all. However, I received an important message from Crockett that requires immediate attention," Lieutenant MacAllister explained to the men gathered behind the closed doors in Colonel Potter's office.

"We understand, Lieutenant. Continue," Potter ordered.

"Yes, sir. This is in code...so let me read it to y'all first. And then I'll decipher it," MacAllister took the paper from her pant pocket and read out loud:

_Rattlesnake with tail buzzing. __Clay: Previous chats confirmed. Scalping parties will be riding. All best cares need sharp eyes out from now on. Travel by covered wagon only. Keep your mares in the corral. You may have to move the herd to another pasture. All who sunburn should wear sunbonnets. No one should go to the Lone Star Prom. __Trey: Green eyes and Pennant watching required. If sighted together, notify. __Camel: Relief pitcher for T. Learn the language. __Brazos: Top three informed together. Confirm understanding. Hair must be like a pill bug. Remember bait talk? Instigators are working again. If you won't switch trains, at least, don't roam. __Lava and Brazos: don't expect the Pony Express to run for a while. __Prickly Pear_

MacAllister looked up from her paper, "That's all of it."

"You actually understand any of that?" Corporal Klinger asked in confusion.

Sarabeth grinned, "Oh, sure. This is one of Crockett's simpler codes. However, if you don't know what to associate with each phrase---it's gibberish."

"It certainly is," Klinger agreed. He poured everyone a cup of coffee before sitting down again.

"Now, for what it means," the lieutenant tasted her coffee, grimaced and set the cup aside, "the line about the rattlesnake means that the danger is very real and very close. And the first part of the message is for you, sir," MacAllister looked at her commanding officer who indicated she should continue.

"Wait," the clerk asked, "why is Colonel Potter...Clay?"

"That should be obvious, Klinger," Major Winchester replied. "A _potter_ works with _clay_."

"Exactly," the woman agreed. "Even when he's dead dog serious, Crockett has a warped sense of humor. What he's telling you, sir," she returned to her explanation, "is that whatever y'all have talked about previously, has now been verified. And the conditions are right for enemy attacks. He wants every medical outfit to post, and keep, some _very_ good guards around the camps. We shouldn't use open air vehicles, like jeeps. Our nurses should stay within the compound. And we might all have to be moved elsewhere. Fair-skinned people also need to wear hats. And finally, no one should go _anywhere_ alone."

"I was able to follow all of that, except for the Lone Star Prom, lieutenant. What's the connection there?" The commanding officer asked.

"Well, sir, when I was in junior high, I was invited to that dance. But some of my stinking brothers managed to scare off the boy who had asked me. By then, my Mama and I had already made my dress, and I really wanted to go, so I went to the Lone Star Prom...alone. "

The Texan continued, "Now, the second message is for you, Major."

Winchester nodded, "I think I may be able to translate: Colonel Flagg is working this area, again. If he appears in camp, I am to notify Colonel MacAllister. Correct?"

Smiling, the woman agreed. "The colonel also wants me to keep an eye on a certain green-eyed lady. That shouldn't be too difficult," the major added with a small grin.

Amused by his statement, the commanding officer and the company clerk hid their own smiles behind their coffee cups.

"Camel has to mean me," Corporal Klinger observed. "There's just something about MacAllisters and camels. But I don't understand the message."

"Crockett wants you to be our backup. If the major can't notify him about Colonel Flagg---if he's in the OR, for example---then he wants you to call him. He has a special code set up for that. I'll teach it to you today."

"The rest of this is for me," the woman looked at her note again. "I'm to make sure y'all understand his messages. I'm to stay in camp and to use caution whenever I go outside." Sarabeth shrugged. "Do you want me to go over them in detail, sir?"

"I don't believe it's necessary," Colonel Potter replied. "Now, the contents of that message must remain inside this office, understood?"

"Yes, sir," three voices solemnly agreed.

The phone rang in the outer office. Corporal Klinger jumped up to answer it. Moments later, he returned, "Sir, HQ is on the phone. They want to speak to you---right away!"

"I'll take it in here. We are going to have a senior staff meeting in a few minutes. Klinger, I want more guards posted around the camp. And tell them to be very alert or they'll be wearing my boot prints," the colonel issued orders. "MacAllister, tell Major Houlihan about the staff meeting. Winchester, you escort the lieutenant around the compound and notify Mulcahy. Then all of you come back here. Dismissed."

"Sir, if Corporal Klinger has time, maybe he can brew some fresh coffee for our meeting?" MacAllister suggested. "I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"And, this time, Klinger, filter it through clean socks," Major Winchester added. He stood and helped the woman to her feet, "All right, lieutenant; time for our appointed rounds."

* * *

"_Lava_ must be Kellye," Charles Winchester commented as they walked away from the commander's officer. "And, are you _Brazos_?"

"Brazos is the name of a river in Texas," Sarabeth MacAllister informed him with a grin. She headed towards her own tent. Confused by her detour, the major followed her. "You're right, though," she replied as she opened the door to her quarters. "That's me. Crockett has a code name for almost everyone in camp."

Stepping back to allow her to enter, the man asked, "What is Pierce's code name?" He quickly closed the door behind them against the cold wind.

"You're reasonably intelligent," she teased. "I reckon you can figure that one out by yourself." MacAllister reached for the canvas hat that was hanging on a nail beside her bed. Also retrieving her hair brush, she spied the small dog that had moved from his bed near the heater to the top of her bed. Speaking sternly, she said, "_Ernie_...I told you...that's off limits."

Offended by her tone, the animal hopped down from her cot and walked over to the water bowl. He drank noisily. Sarabeth smiled at the dog and looked at the man standing next to her. "Beware of lifting legs," she warned.

"The same could be applied to Pierce," Winchester grinned. "For him, however, the adjectives infuriating, immature and irresponsible do come to mind as possible code choices."

"Sorry, wrong letter of the alphabet," Sarabeth informed him. She was busily brushing her red hair as they talked. When she finished, she began to braid it.

"You won't tell me?"

"Nope. But I will tell you if you guess correctly."

"Very well; I shall have to think about that one awhile longer. Out of curiosity, does Lieutenant Parnelli have a code name?"

Sarabeth had a wide grin on her face. "She sure does: _slug_," she answered in amusement.

Winchester smiled in delight, "Appropriate; but, why slug?"

The woman shrugged, "I'm not sure if it's because she belongs under a rock or if it's because Crockett knows I'd like to slug her one."

Shaking his head at her, he continued his questions, "Perhaps you will explain some of your more cryptic instructions. What does '_hair like a pill bug_' mean?"

"What I'm doing right now," MacAllister explained. She twisted her hair up, placed the hat on her head and began pushing the strands trying to escape back under the material. "Crockett wants me to wear a hat anytime I go outside. And he wants me to tuck my hair in it. I reckon he thinks red hair is too conspicuous around here."

"In the middle of a land filled with dark-haired people, I wonder why he would think that?" The major questioned with a grin.

"I haven't the foggiest," she replied.

"And what does '_switching trains_' mean?"

"My big brother has been after me to transfer out of here since I first arrived. I'm been resisting his suggestions."

Major Winchester proclaimed, "Given these new dangers, I would not make it a suggestion; I would make it an order."

"He also knows I don't follow orders, too well," Sarabeth admitted. "Right now, it's a moot point. Crockett's very busy. Any transfers will have to wait."

"Don't you mean a _moo-o-ot_ point?" The man quipped.

The corner of the Texan's mouth started quivering. When she glanced at Winchester, her eyes were sparkling with laughter, "And you claim my puns are bad!"

"I've had very little sleep. What else can I say?"

"I'd say, let's go talk to Major Houlihan, now." MacAllister replied with a grin.

* * *

"I-Corps has ordered every commanding officer in this sector to attend a meeting this morning," Colonel Potter explained as he buttoned his Class A jacket. "They say there are some important new developments that we need to know about. In the meantime, Winchester, as second-in-command, you'll be in charge. Keep guards posted at all times. No one---male or female---is to go beyond the confines of the camp," the senior officer instructed.

"And, if you get a message from Colonel MacAllister to 'bug out'; don't hesitate—even if you haven't received orders from HQ, yet. I want everyone packed and gone before the end of that phone call. Understand me?"

"Certainly, Colonel," Major Winchester replied gravely. "I will see to the safety of camp personnel."

"And, I'll review my nurses on evacuation procedures," Major Houlihan contributed. "We'll be ready, Colonel."

"Good. I'm hoping it won't be necessary," Potter replied. "I'll have more information when I return."

* * *

When the commander of the 4077th returned, he called for another staff meeting.

After he finished his briefing, he sent his officers on their assignments; MacAllister to inventory current supplies; Pierce and Houlihan to prepare a list of everything they might need; Klinger to start requisitioning everything they suggested---as much as he could get away with; Mulcahy to talk his black market contacts to get every box of antibiotics he could get his hands on; and Winchester to read everything available in the manuals on evacuating an entire hospital.

Alone at his desk, Sherman Potter sipped the whiskey that he had prescribed for himself.

He wondered about the people in Regimental Headquarters, sometimes. They were willing to believe the AI reports that there had been a shakeup in the Chinese army and that this new commander would bring more fighting to this sector---with probably more vicious results than ever before. But, they were less willing to believe that medical units, recognized neutral private care organizations, even the few monasteries left standing, could also be considered targets; despite the chilling background information and fact-based suppositions that Colonel MacAllister had patiently presented to them.

At least, HQ had agreed to assign Military Police to provide extra sentries for every MASH unit, and that some of the NATO outfits would be directed to make routine sweeps around each camp.

Personally, Potter trusted MacAllister's judgment. The 4077th would go on full alert; with blackout conditions and travel restrictions in place. He knew there would be grumblings amongst his people but he was going to be prepared for possible enemy action.


	34. 34

THIRTY FOUR

* * *

December 14th: 0800 hours

"…Listen to this," Hawkeye Pierce announced to his tent mates. He was reading the nearly two month old edition of the Crab Apple Cove Courier that had just arrived. "Mrs. Lewis Clewis," he laughed in delight at the name before continuing, "reported to the Biddeford Police Department that someone smashed the Halloween pumpkin she had placed on her porch step. She said the carving of the face of the president into the pumpkin had taken many hours and that she was devastated by the loss. The chief said they would catch those rapscallions…." he lowered his paper to look at the other men "…_rapscallions_---isn't that a terrific word!"

"Terrific, really terrific," Captain Browne replied. Rather than listen to the home town news, he was trying to play a game of solitaire. He had only found 51 cards; he was playing anyway.

Charles Winchester folded the letter he had been reading and placed it on his desk. He pulled on his coat and began to fasten the buttons. "I believe I will try the mess tent; perhaps there is something edible, today."

"I'll come with you!" Browne jumped up from his bed and followed the senior officer outside.

"Was he really going to read that entire paper out loud to us?" He asked as they crossed the compound to the mess tent.

"Quite possibly," the major replied. "It's his way of proving that he can read." The man sighed, "I never realized how much of bulwark Hunnicutt created against Pierce."

Worried, the captain asked, "Hunnicutt is coming back, tomorrow. Right?"

"One can only hope."

* * *

Sitting at a table, Major Winchester curled his lip in disgust at the swill that has been plunked on his plate. He closed his eyes and tried to envision his last meal at the White Lotus. At least he could still remember good quality food. He opened his eyes in time to see Lieutenant MacAllister entering the tent.

"Good morning, lieutenant. That's a nice hat you are wearing today."

The woman gave a snort of disgust, "It's sure not a Stetson." She pulled the covering from her head and shook out her braid. MacAllister grimaced and announced, "Hats give me headaches."

"Nonetheless," Winchester insisted, "you will be wearing one every time you step outside, won't you?"

Sarabeth grinned, "You're as bossy as Crockett; you know that? That must be a trait of all big brothers."

"Caused, no doubt, by having to deal with little sisters," Winchester retorted. Gesturing to the bench beside him, he said, "Would you care to join me? The food is atrocious but your company will be appreciated."

"Not right now, sir," she looked over at the table where Corporal Klinger was sitting. "I need to speak to our superior scrounger."

"And what pranks are you planning with our plundering pilferer?"

"I can't tell you that," the Texan smiled. "It's a secret."

* * *

"Klinger, have you had any luck finding me any small bottles?" Sarabeth MacAllister asked as she sat beside the company clerk.

"Sorry, lieutenant," the man shook his head. "The only things I've found so far are some urine specimen bottles."

"Those won't do. I need some small bottles with lids. I'm depending on you, Sam."

The man smiled. He adjusted an invisible fedora on his head and replied, confidently. "I'll find them, ma'am," he promised. "Detective Sam Klinger never gives up on a case."

"I'm so glad. Your usual fee, of course?"

"Yes. One dozen chocolate…"

His words were lost as the public address system was activated. _"We've got an ambulance bus coming into the compound. Rise and shine, folks._"

_

* * *

_

_"_How long have we been in the OR, so far?" Colonel Potter wondered.

"Too long," Lieutenant Campbell remarked, "much too long."

The two of them were sitting on a bench outside the operating room. Taking a break, they were scheduled to return to duty, soon.

"You're right about that." Standing and stretching, Potter yawned. "Well, we still have about ten minutes left. I'm going to take a quick nap in that cot over there."

Corporal Klinger approached. He was carrying a tray from the mess tent. "Good evening, sir and madam. During the intermission from this evening's delightful entertainment, may I interest you in something from our snack bar? A cup of coffee, perhaps? Or a delicious deli sandwich?"

The surgeon waved him away, "Not unless you can chew it for me."

"I'll take the coffee," the nurse replied. "Just add some arsenic to it."

"Coming right up," he handed the mug to the woman.

Before she had the chance to sample the coffee, an announcement was made: "_And now, back by popular demand, ambulances in the compound. All available personnel report to triage, immediately. One more time, folks._"

"Didn't we just leave this party?" The company clerk groaned in tired frustration.


	35. 35

THIRTY FIVE

* * *

Dec. 15th: 0900 hours

"I want to thank you for allowing me to leave before Captain Hunnicutt returns, Colonel." Captain Browne was sitting in the commander's office. He and the other camp physicians were having a final cup of coffee together. "I have learned a lot from being out here. The main thing I've learned, however, is that I'd rather be back at the base. Lancing boils on the general's butt doesn't seem quite so bad, now---compared to this."

"Nothing's as bad when compared to this place," Charles Winchester observed. "This is a festering cesspool complete with cretins and fools---present company included," he looked disdainfully at the dark haired doctor.

"So which are you, Charles?" Hawkeye Pierce responded. He continued, "Speaking of festering, I've made my decision: Browne, I'm coming with you. Your job sounds a whole lot better than mine." The surgeon started to rise from the chair where he had been slouching. "Lancing boils, here I come."

"Whoa, cowboy," his commanding officer spoke to him, "you're staying in the corral with the rest of us."

"Pony pooper," Pierce muttered without rancor.

The company clerk knocked on the door frame, "Excuse me, sirs. Captain, the supply truck has been unloaded and it's ready for the return trip to Kimpo."

"So am I," the visiting surgeon replied. He quickly grabbed his satchel. "Colonel, thank you again. Not that it hasn't been fun, because it hasn't; but I am ready to get back."

"I understand. You're a good surgeon, Captain," Colonel Potter said. "We'd be glad to have here at the 4077th, any time you change your mind."

"Not too likely," was the man's parting remark as he practically ran out of the office.

"Was it something we said?" Pierce asked with a grin.

* * *

December 15th: 1400 hours

"I want to thank you for this welcome back bash, Hawkeye," B J Hunnicutt commented as he dropped another metal fragment into the basin that Margaret Houlihan held for him. "But, I could have done without the party favors." He tried not to flinch as another artillery shell exploded in the distance, "And the noise makers." During his brief stay in Tokyo, he had forgotten how intimidating the sounds from those big guns could be.

"Don't blame me," Hawkeye Pierce responded. "The Chinese are the ones hosting this party." He spoke angrily as he observed his next patient, "Look at this! This kid can't be more than 17! For the next war, I'm going to strictly enforce the age limit. No one under the age of 85 is admitted. And no weapons will be allowed either," the Chief Surgeon continued, "only feather dusters at 30 paces."

"And the first person to sneeze loses," Captain Hunnicutt added.

"Exactly! And then we can give them a hankie, say 'bless you' and go home," the dark haired doctor from Maine announced.

"And speaking of home," Sherman Potter changed the subject, "Hunnicutt, how was your home away from home visit?"

"It was great, Colonel!" The man with the mustache replied. "Since it was cold and rainy, most of the time we just stayed in the hotel room and played with Erin. We were able to do some sight-seeing and some shopping, though. And, we even ate at the White Lotus once. It is certainly a very high class restaurant."

"I just hope he didn't mention our names," Lieutenant MacAllister whispered to Major Winchester. She was the assigned circulating nurse for this session and was delivering more sterilized instruments to his table.

"Indeed," the Boston surgeon agreed. Very few people knew of their earlier escapades at that particular restaurant and he intended to keep it that way.

B J Hunnicutt continued, "I also want to take this opportunity to thank everyone here for making it possible! Thank you, Colonel, for allowing me to go; thank you, Klinger, and Sarabeth, for making all of the arrangements; and thanks to Colonel MacAllister for picking the perfect baby-sitter. Also, thanks to everyone here who worked so hard to provide the money for every thing. We had a wonderful time---just the three of us---together."

"And, of course, a very special '_thank you_' to Hawkeye Pierce; for coming up with this ludicrous and astonishing plan, in the first place, and then insisting on keeping it a secret. I was certainly _surprised_ to see Peg and Erin there." B J finished his speech.

"What can I say?" Hawkeye answered modestly. "I'm just a special guy. So special, in fact," he leaned toward his surgical nurse, "what do you say, special lady, that after we finish in here, you meet me at the Swamp for a special time with a special guy?"

"Captain Pierce," Major Houlihan responded. "Keep your not-so-special advances to yourself. And leave my nurses alone."

"All right, Margaret. How about you coming over to my tent, then?" At her annoyed huff, he shrugged. His grin was noticeable in his eyes. "At least, I'd be leaving your nurses alone."

"Pierce, you could leave all of us alone simply by closing your mouth," Major Winchester remarked with a long suffering sigh. "Or better yet, let me suture it shut for you."

"But how could I express my needs, Charles? I do have needs, you know. Like right now, I need some new gloves," Captain Pierce responded glibly, "In fact, I need all the_ gloving _I can get."

While helping him into a pair of clean gloves, Lieutenant MacAllister quoted:

'_There was a Doctor named Pierce_

_ Who liked to joke something fierce._

_He made such a bad pun,_

_ That we all had to run_

_Before we burst into tears._'

A groan was heard from a table behind her. "No! Not limericks, too!" Doctor Winchester complained.

"I think it's wonderful!" The surgeon defended her poetry. "Do you have one for B J?"

"I do, sir," the Texan replied. She recited:

'_There once was a man named B J_

_ Who liked to rest on Sunday._

_But his wife had a list,_

_ And gave his arm a twist,_

_And said _'Honey, cut'_ the grass today._'

B J Hunnicutt's amusement was reflected in his eyes. "That's great! And it sounds just like Peg."

"Lieutenant MacAllister," Winchester called to her, "I protest! Limericks are bad enough. Puns _inside_ limericks, however, are against the Geneva Convention! Or should be."

"Sorry, sir. I couldn't resist."

"What about Charles? You have to have one for him," Hawkeye told her.

Before she could answer, the major declared, "Spare me that honor."

"It's just as well, sir," she answered. "I haven't been able to think of enough words to rhyme with Winchester. I do have one for you, sir." She told her commanding officer as he stretched and waited for another wounded soldier to be carried in. "But it is slightly risqué."

"Let's hear it, lieutenant," Potter directed.

"No! Colonel, I beg of you..." The surgeon from Massachusetts pleaded for a reprieve.

His protests were ignored as the woman spoke again:

'_There once was a lad named Potter_

_ Who loved the farmer's daughter._

_In the fields all day,_

_ At night he would play._

_But_ _not with the daughter's father._'

The colonel laughed, "That's awful."

"I know, sir," MacAllister acknowledged. "Major Houlihan, would you like to hear yours?"

"No. I believe it is time for my nurse with the unrestrained tongue to restrain herself."

"Here. Here," Winchester seconded her motion.

* * *

Tired from the long hours in the operating room, Captain Hunnicutt made the observation, "I sure wish we had a different landlord. This one keeps sending me kids with leaky pipes. Show me those x-rays, again." With a shake of his head, and a deep breath, he continued his work.

"Want some help?" The Chief Surgeon, who was resting on his table, stood and stretched. He called for more gloves, gestured for his surgical nurse to follow him and moved to Hunnicutt's table.

As the surgical team worked to save the young man's life, he observed, "I've seen fewer holes in a sieve," and added, "This reminds me, I've got some nice real estate in downtown Hell here---if anyone's interested in buying some."

"Who was it who said, given a choice of owning Texas and Hell, he'd rent out Texas and live in Hell?" Major Winchester queried. He glanced up to see a red headed nurse's reaction to his words.

With an arched eyebrow, she drawled in reply, "Probably some damn-fool _Yankee_, sir."

* * *

"Would anyone care for a glass of water? Or some coffee?" The priest brought in a tray loaded with drinks for the surgical teams. "We're out of orange juice, I'm afraid."

"Over here, padre," Hawkeye Pierce called as he removed his gloves and threw them into the hamper. "Done. A warm and willing nurse is the only thing I'm operating on for the rest of the day," the doctor declared. With a yawn, glancing at the clock, he called to one of the corpsmen passing by, "Avara, lift up that blackout curtain, will you?" He looked through the operating room window into the compound outside. "What do you know? It's daylight out there."

"Daylight? What's that?" B J Hunnicutt asked. He was almost finished with his final patient, as well.

"You know what daylight is, Beej. It's when the big yellow thing comes up in the sky and shines off the top of Charles's head," Pierce said. He sipped from his glass and ignored Lieutenant MacAllister's raised eyebrow.

"How kind," Winchester replied. "Actually, Pierce, I enjoy seeing the sun rise. Because I know that you'll soon be slithering back under your rock."

"Boys," Potter warned, "Be kind to your commanding officer. It's been a relatively peaceful session in here; let's keep it that way."

"All right, Colonel," Pierce conceded with another yawn. "You won't hear a hiss out of me. A bit of sibilance, perhaps; even a bit of speaking with forked tongue, maybe. But not a hiss."

"Simple silence would suffice," a certain major muttered in disgust.


	36. 36

THIRTY SIX

* * *

Dec. 20th: 0900 hours

_My Darling,_

_I love you, Peg. Did you know that? Just in case you've forgotten that, I thought I'd tell you. _

_I'm sitting here in the mess tent, trying to keep warm. Since the main road to our camp is currently impassable, we're trying to conserve heating fuel. We are not allowed to light the heaters in our tents until we're ready for bed. So that's making the mess tent a very popular place to be at the moment._

_It is five days until Christmas, Peg. And it's been five days since I last saw you. And, right now, I don't know which is the hardest to face. _

_I didn't realize just how hard it was going to be saying goodbye to you for a second time. However, I'm still glad we made the decision for you and Erin to come to Tokyo._

_As much as I have enjoyed your letters…they just weren't enough...I needed to be able to convince myself that the two of you still existed. You and Erin are my lifelines to reality. You help to remind me that there are other things in life besides this misery and death that surrounds us here. _

_It was so wonderful to be able to talk to you...to see you...to be with you. And Erin! I can not believe how much she's grown! I actually got to hear my baby call me 'daddy'; and see her walk; and listen to her cute little sayings. I'm not sure if you realize how much I needed that. I love you both so much!_

_And I'm so grateful to Hawkeye and Sarabeth for arranging your trip. I can never repay them for giving me my sanity and my lifeline back to me!_

_Guess what? You are now married to a Texan! And just how did that happen, you ask? Well, this morning, Sarabeth came over to the Swamp and gave us each a package. She said that we needed to open them right away. Each of us received a small bottle filled with dirt. She laughed at our expressions when we opened that present. _

_She explained that the dirt was genuine Texas soil---straight from her Mama's garden. And that, by the power invested in her as a sixth-generation, native-born Texican, we were hereby adopted as Texans---whether or not we wanted to be. And that we were now entitled to all bragging rights and privileges of a resident of the biggest and the best state in the Union. But we had to keep our bottle of dirt with us at all times...or else the adoption was null and void._

_Hawkeye and I immediately began speaking with an extremely exaggerated drawl. Our redheaded Texan was laughing at our accents. Charles just looked at us in exasperation. But he smiled at Sarabeth. He's been doing that a lot more since they came back from Tokyo._

_I don't know what kind of war news you are getting back home. But it is bad here, Peg. Very bad. Don't worry about me, though. We're cold and miserable; bored when we're not being overloaded with casualties; and exhausted when we're finished taking care of all these people who need our help. But, we're going to be fine. _

_Bye, Peg. Kiss Erin for me. I love you both very much. Again, don't worry-everything's going to be okay._

_B J

* * *

Hoping he was telling the truth, setting his letter aside, Captain Hunnicutt listened to some of the conversations going on around him. Not really meaning to ease-drop, it was difficult to avoid their words, however._

Hawkeye and Charles were arguing over a missing bottle of hair tonic---or was it brandy---he couldn't tell which.

Three of the nurses beside him were discussing the intensity of injuries that they were seeing.

"I've worked the emergency room in Detroit for five years and I don't believe I've ever seen anything quite so brutal," Lieutenant Thompson observed dejectedly. "It's bad enough to lob a grenade into a foxhole. But to jump in afterwards and stab everyone who's still moving..." she shuddered.

"In pre-op, while Private Marshton was waiting to be treated," Lieutenant Kellye contributed, "he told me that, if he hadn't still been able to shoot, and if that patrol hadn't arrived, they would have all been killed." She shook her head. "That's horrible!"

Lieutenant Baker added, "In Tony's last letter, he told me that this new Chinese general is responsible for all this butchery. And, now he's launched an even more aggressive campaign to gain himself more fast glory."

"Terrific; just what we needed."

Behind him, BJ could hear Lieutenants Parnelli and Hernandez also having a discussion.

"I think it's stupid to not be able to leave the camp! I wanted to go to the village to buy a scarf that I saw at the market. But, now, I can't even cross the compound without an escort," Monica complained.

"At least you got to go to Seoul on your days off!" Linda Hernandez replied, unhappily. "I finally get two days leave and I have to spend it here!"

"And, I'll tell you something else that's stupid…."

Tuning out that conversation, the doctor looked over at Corporal Klinger and Lieutenant MacAllister. Heads close together, they were discussing how to get some cartons that were sitting in the warehouse in Kimpo waiting to be transported to the 4077th.

The company clerk asked, "How about having your brother, the helicopter pilot, fly them in?"

MacAllister was shaking her head. "I can't. He's…busy, right now. Maybe we can bribe a driver to take them to Kimhbede and then we can…"

Smiling, Hunnicutt wished them luck. He turned his attention to his commanding officer. Colonel Potter was talking to Father Mulcahy, "Morale around here is lower than a snail's belly, padre. Can you suggest something?"

"I requested some new movies, Colonel. But, they're with the rest of our supplies, waiting for the roads to be cleared for traffic."

Potter frowned and muttered, "Damn!" softly.

"Perhaps we can decorate the tree early," the priest suggested. "And, since, we having the orphan's party on Christmas Eve; that should make everyone feel better."

"I hope so, Father."

B J Hunnicutt hoped so, as well. He and Peg had let Erin open a couple of gifts in Tokyo. She was really too young to understand the meanings behind them, but she had had a great time playing with the boxes and the ribbons. Seeing that gleeful smile on that cherubic face had warmed his heart. Seeing that joy reflected in the faces of the Korean children should do the same for everyone here.

The sound of a mortar shell exploding further down the road had everyone looking up and listening to the commotion. A collective groan was heard. They all knew they could be expecting casualties soon.

Captain Hunnicutt gathered up his letter and placed it inside his coat pocket. Please let everything be okay, he pleaded silently.


	37. 37

THIRTY SEVEN

* * *

Dec. 23rd: 1200 hours

_Dear Dad,_

_It is two days before Christmas and I'm sitting in a cave, listening to mortar shells explode all around me. Actually, I'm sitting just outside the entrance of the cave, trying to keep my panic under control, while listening to mortar shells explode all around me. _

_And why am I in a cave when I'm claustrophobic? Good question. Because: four hours ago, the 4077th was caught in the middle of a heavy artillery barrage between Chinese and American outfits. Our patients were being knocked out of their beds and off their bed pans. Not to mention the medical staff who were being knocked off their feet. _

_When Colonel Potter contacted Regimental HQ, the U. S. Army, in its infantile wisdom, refused to halt their attack. Hoping to avoid becoming a battle statistic, we vacated their playground and headed for the imagined safety of this nearby cave. _

_Potter apologized to me for this shelter. He knows how I feel about caves. But he had no choice and I agree. The safety of our patients must come first. The only good thing about all this is: this is only a temporary 'bug out'. Not one where we have to move the entire camp and stay there. We'll be returning to the grand and glorious gutter we call home, as soon as they run out of shells to throw at each other. Which will be too long---no matter how short of a time it is._

_It wasn't so bad, at first. We were busy setting up cots and heaters; and bringing in the wounded from the buses; and repairing the damages caused by the trip. However, once we finished taking care of everyone, the walls started closing in on me. _

_My heart started pounding. I couldn't breathe. It was all I could do to keep myself from running...screaming...right out into the middle of this sniper-lousy, mine-filled sector of Korea; which isn't necessarily the smartest thing to do. So I have been hovering on the edge of the cave, trying to not turn into a quivering, whimpering mass of Chicken ala Pierce._

_Margaret also knows how I feel about closed-in spaces. She came out to talk to me for a few minutes but was called back inside to attend to some minor problem. Sarabeth came out a few minutes later and brought me an extra blanket. She stayed to sit with me. The cave is cramped but not so crowded that she couldn't be inside where it is safer. _

_Despite my protests, she has refused to leave my side. She reminded me, with one of her wonderful smiles, that sisters have the option of ignoring their big brothers' commands. __I asked her if I was her favorite brother and she replied that I was definitely her _Maine _one._

_Charles Winchester is also sitting out here with us. Now, that's an unexpected development. After Sarabeth had been out here for awhile, he came out, carrying a cup of soup. He offered the cup to her. After she thanked him, he said: "You're welcome, my dear. I don't suppose I can convince you to come back inside, can I?"_

_She took a swallow from the cup and answered: "Nope." Charles shook his head and asked: "Are all Texans this...determined?" Sarabeth just smiled at him in reply. So then, Charles, who loves his comfort, sat down on the cold ground beside her and said: "Very well. I shall enjoy the questionable safety of our cave---from outside the cave." She told him it wasn't necessary. He insisted it was. Sarabeth didn't say anything else. She just lifted the edge of the blanket to cover him, as well. _

_Ever since they returned from Tokyo, he's been observed sitting next to her in the mess tent and calling her "my dear" more often. The speculation is that Charles is very fond of Sarabeth. But, he's so reserved---so filled with that peculiar sense of high-society decorum of his---that I'm not sure he is even aware of it, himself. _

_Anyway, here we are: the three of us, sharing one blanket, passing a cup of lukewarm soup back and forth and listening to all the war noises down the road. We've been talking, mainly to get my mind off the cave behind me and the bombs in front of me. (This was initiated by Sarabeth, of course---Charles and I argue a lot but we seldom actually talk to one another.) _

_We've discussed our family Christmas traditions; and what inspired us to go into medicine; and our favorite songs; and several other topics. A peaceful, comforting feeling just seems to have settled around us; even though we aren't in the least bit comfortable. And our surroundings certainly couldn't be considered peaceful._

_I've been thinking about Christmas...and you...and home...a lot recently. This is yet another Christmas I'll be spending here in Hell's vacation resort. I sometimes get the notion that I'm never going to see you or Crabapple Cove again. That I'll be trapped here forever...trying to mend countless mangled bodies...with more and more coming all the time...Sarabeth just squeezed my arm and smiled at me; I think._

_I can't see her face very well because of the scarf she has wrapped around her face and head. But the smile and compassion showing in her eyes is having a calming effect on me. And I do need calming. _

_The shelling seems to be letting up. I guess we'll be moving back to our compound soon. And I know the casualties will start rolling in: both military and civilian. I hate this rotten place so much!_

_Our main route has been impassable, and deemed unsafe, for several days now. Until early this morning, they hadn't even able to get a supply truck through to us. Of course, they still managed to bring us the wounded---mostly in and out by chopper. _

_Luckily, we were able to stockpile most of the supplies we needed before the road was closed. We have had to conserve fuel, though; by limiting the time that heaters and lights can be used and by moving some of the personnel into other tents. _

_The enlisted men and corpsmen have doubled up together. Sarabeth and Ernie, her faithful follower, moved into one of the nurses' tents and Margaret moved into the other. Filled with the sharing spirit, I generously offered to share our fourth cot with any, or all, of the nurses. The colonel assigned Father Mulcahy to share our room with us, instead._

_Our mild-mannered, yet strong-minded, priest was planning a party for some of the local orphans on Christmas Eve at the 4077th. He convinced almost everyone here to help prepare gifts for the children. Some of the nurses made rag dolls while some of the men carved wooden toys. (I didn't attempt that—I need all my fingers for surgery.) Klinger tried to get extra blankets for them, as well. _

_I don't know if we'll be able to have that party now or not. We may be very busy._

_I don't even know if we'll be able to have our own Christmas party. There's supposed to be a 24-hour truce starting at midnight Christmas Eve. Will it be kept? I hope so. But I doubt it._

_Guess I need to stop writing. Colonel Potter has called a senior staff meeting. Now, if I can only stand up. Judging from the groans coming from Charles and Sarabeth, they're thinking the same thing._

_I'll write again---the first chance I get._

_Love always---your son, _

_Hawkeye _


	38. 38

THIRTY EIGHT

* * *

Dec. 24th: 1100 hours

Tired and cold from their journey by truck, used to grim circumstances, the Korean children were hesitant, at first, to even smile at the people who were hosting their party. However, with cups of hot cocoa and warm, loving hugs being dispensed; and the prospect of presents, excited laughter soon filled the tent.

Grinning happily, two of Santa's most unusual helpers, Hawkeye Pierce and B J Hunnicutt were watching the activities inside the mess tent. In one corner, a small scruffy-looking tree had been set up. It was decorated with tongue depressors, forceps, strips of bandages and other medical supplies. Paper chain garlands and Korean brush wreaths were hung along the support poles.

Nearby, Colonel Potter was demonstrating the galloping motions and whinnying noises of a wooden horse to one of the boys. On the floor, Corporal Klinger was having a car race with two other boys. At the serving table, Sarabeth MacAllister was handing out cookies and sandwiches to anyone who looked hungry. Margaret Houlihan was reading a story to a little girl who was snuggling in her lap. Nurse Kellye was playing 'dress up' with another little girl. Mulcahy and another waif were sitting at the piano, plunking away at some tune.

Almost everyone was having a good time. Charles Winchester, in between bouts of coughing and sneezing, was arguing with the director of the orphanage about something. Other than a professional concern for his increasing cough, Hawkeye ignored him. He looked around. Sitting in a corner by herself, away from all the festivities, was Monica Parnelli.

Elbowing his tent mate, and gesturing in her direction, the men made their way towards her.They settled down on either side of the woman and Pierce announced, "Ho-ho-ho. It's me; your favorite Christmas gift---just waiting to be unwrapped."

"Or maybe you'd prefer some powdered eggnog, instead?" Hunnicutt offered the nurse a cup of that very drink.

The woman looked up. "No thanks," was her only comment.

"What's wrong, Monica?" Hawkeye Pierce asked in concern. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I hate Christmas," the woman announced. "Everyone's so happy; and carrying on about presents and everything. But, there never are any presents," she added bitterly. "It's all so stupid. I just wish it was over."

"Well, now, Missy," Hawkeye volunteered, "I happen to know that there is a very special present, in Santa's bag, just for you. You'll be receiving it tomorrow at our party."

"Really?" Parnelli stared at him, trying to determine if he was making some joke at her expense.

"Scout's honor," the man replied earnestly.

Leaving her with a smile, Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt returned to sample another sugar cookie from the overflowing tray.

"Hawk," B J asked in concerned, "what if there isn't anything for her under the tree tomorrow?"

"There will be," the dark haired man answered as he bit into his treat. He tried to catch the pieces as it crumbled. "I'll give her my favorite Hawaiian shirt."

"And, that's supposed to be special?" Hunnicutt asked with a grin.

"It's special to me," Pierce remarked with a grin of his own.

* * *

The two hours allotted for the party passed quickly. Reluctantly, the children, enfolded in their Army issued blankets, clutching their toys tightly, were given final hugs and kisses from the men and women of the MASH unit and were lifted into the back of their waiting transport truck. As everyone was waving goodbye to them, a group of seven soldiers, shivering in the cold, came struggling into the medical compound.

"We had a dust up with some rather unfriendly chaps two hills over," the senior officer reported. He stumbled and would have fallen if the Chief Surgeon had not caught him.

"Anyone hurt?" Captain Pierce asked as he gave a cursory exam to the soldier.

"A few scratches, mate," the man replied. "M-m-mostly we just need to get somewhere warm."

"W-w-warmm," another one echoed as he struggled to pull his coat closer around his body.

"We've got _umbles_," the physician announced. Stumbling, mumbling and fumbling were indicators of changes in motor coordination and were the beginning signs of hypothermia; something they were seeing far too often these days. "Let's get them into pre-op."

* * *

Corporals Klinger and Goldman began the process of securing their weapons as the medical teams began removing their outer clothing and wrapping warmed blankets around the soldiers. Cups of heated broth were quickly distributed, as well.

"Hello, Texas," one of the men greeted the nurse who was busily unlacing the boots of another man. He clutched the hot beverage tightly in his hands.

"Howdy, Outback," she replied with a smile before returning to her duties. She removed the soldier's socks from his feet and examined his toes. "Good, no frost bite," she reported and placed a heated towel carefully around each foot before straightening. "It's about time you came back for a visit, Mitch."

"Too right," the Australian gave her a tired grin. "The bloke whose toes you are stroking is my CO. Captain Davidson, this is Lieutenant MacAllister."

"The Shelia with the steaks?" He asked in delight.

"Texas T-bone, that's me," the woman replied.

"I'm from a cattle station, in Queensland," the officer remarked. "And, I have to admit, that was some of the best beef I have ever eaten. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's nice to know MacAllister beef is world renowned."

"And appreciated," another voice called to her.

The Texan looked towards that voice and smiled in welcome, "Howdy, Tom!"

Corporal Buchanan, the soldier she had treated when she first arrived in Korea, was laying on a table and was having his own feet and hands administered to. "Hello, lady," he grinned.

"Hi, Aussie" stopping briefly by his table, MacAllister greeted the man. "I hate that you're here, under these circumstances, but I am glad to see you!"

"Lady, you're sure a sight for sore eyes."

She laughed, "You Aussies and your eyesight."

"Comes from watching too many kangaroos hop about," Lieutenant Cochlan remarked. "That's Colonel Potter, sir," he pointed out the senior doctor, who was examining another patient, to his commanding officer.

"Right," Captain Davidson nodded. "I'll need to speak to him."

* * *

"Since you've been declared fit and able, and since I have a few minutes before I have to report for my shift," Lieutenant MacAllister grinned at the soldier standing beside her, "do you reckon you could come over to the ranch house for a few minutes? I've got something to give to you." All of the men had been treated and most were resting in the hospital ward, grateful for the chance to rest in a warm bed.

"I reckon," the soldier answered with his own version of a Texan accent. He retrieved his pistol and fastened the weapon belt around his waist before they left the hospital area, however.

"That's necessary? Even here, with guards posted everywhere?" MacAllister asked.

The two were walking, briskly in the cold wind, towards her tent.

"It's necessary," he answered bleakly. "Sarabeth, don't go any where alone," he ordered in concern. "Not even around the outskirts of this camp."

"Crockett's told me the same thing," she stated.

"The colonel's, right. We've been hearing some rather nasty stories out there."

Opening the door to her quarters, the two hurried inside. "Criminey," the man exclaimed. "It's colder in here than out there."

"Sorry, we still have to conserve heating fuel." MacAllister switched on a light and knelt beside her foot locker. She unlocked the trunk but could not remove the clasp. The metal pieces were too cold to pry apart.

"Stand aside." Two swift kicks from a soldier's boot had the locker opened in no time.

"Thanks," Counting out seven packages, and then selecting a final one, the woman stood. Setting the other presents aside, she handed two items to the man. "These are for you."

"Before I open these, I have something for you, as well." Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he gave her a small, battered and tattered foil wrapped gift.

Sarabeth opened the present and smiled at the tiny, wooden carving of a kangaroo.

"It's not much," the Australian admitted. "Buchanan carved it for me. I wanted to get you something better, but I haven't had any leave."

"It's wonderful!" MacAllister replied. "Thank y'all, so much!" She hugged the man happily. "Now, open yours. The smaller one, first," she directed.

Opening the package, Mitch Cochlan examined the bottle of dirt given to him. He looked at her with a puzzled expression. "It's genuine Texas soil," MacAllister explained with her famous grin. "Sprinkle some of this on your Aussie wastelands, and you'll instantly have the finest pasture grass, the biggest ears of corn or the brightest, prettiest bluebonnets you've ever seen," the Texan bragged.

Then, with a shy smile, she added, "It's also an open invitation for you to visit me, any time, back home, when this 'police action' is finally over." She looked up at the man who was smiling back at her.

"I'm going to accept that invitation," Cochlan declared. He playfully caught a tendril of her hair that had escaped from beneath her cap before pulling her closer to him. The man stopped abruptly, "That loud-mouthed Shelia isn't going to come in here, is she?"

"Nope. I set the latch on the door."

"Good." Gently at first, he was soon kissing her hungrily. Yielding to his demands, she didn't object as one of his hands caressed her body. His other hand moved to her hip and drew her in even closer. Unexpectedly, she put her own hand to his chest and softly pushed against him.

With a gentleman's restraint, Cochlan stopped nuzzling the corner of her neck and waited for an explanation.

"I reckon," she drew a shaky breath, "That anything else is going to have to wait until later…much later."

"Right," the man agreed reluctantly.

"Here, don't forget to open your other gift."

Inside the other package, was a pair of calfskin gloves with hand stitching and fleece lining. While admiring their promise of warmth, Cochlan returned the gift to the woman. "I can't accept these, Sarabeth. Not while my men are wearing worn out knit gloves."

"Who do you think these are for?" She gestured to the other paper enclosed gifts with a grin. "Since I didn't know sizes, I just had my Daddy send as many of the large ones that were available. Let's go see if they fit, Outback."

"Sure thing, Texas." Before she could unlock the door, however, he stopped her. Caressing her cheek, the man smiled at her, "Happy Christmas, Sarabeth."

"Merry Christmas, Mitch," she returned and smiled at him. "I'm so glad that you're here."


	39. 39

THIRTY NINE

* * *

Dec. 24th: 1400 hours

"That takes care of your temperature and blood pressure," the nurse informed her patient. She recorded the information on his medical chart and put away her equipment, "Now, you need to drink the rest of this." In the Swamp, sitting near Major Winchester's cot, Lieutenant MacAllister was holding a cup of broth for the officer.

"I don't want any more. Go away and leave me alone," he told her between sneezes. "Let me suffer in peace."

"Sorry, you're my assignment for this shift and I'm not leaving," she handed the man a clean handkerchief, "So you might as well cooperate," she warned.

"I don't need anyone to look after me. I just need to be left alone."

"Nope. The Chief Surgeon decided otherwise."

Winchester muttered something that couldn't be understood. "I fail to understand why I'm the only one who caught pneumonia," he wheezed. "You and Pierce were out there longer than I was."

"Clean living?" MacAllister suggested with a smile.

"You...certainly. Pierce...never!" The man closed his feverish eyes, "I am_ so_ hot! And every bone in my body hurts."

"I know," she answered with compassion. "Charles, you need to finish the drink, take your medicine and get some sleep."

"Are you always this persistent?" He questioned.

"Are you always this obstinate?" She countered.

After the officer had taken his antibiotics and had swallowed the last of the liquid, he lay back down. Wearily, he asked, "Now, will you go away?"

"Nope," she replied evenly. She dipped a washcloth into a basin, squeezed out the excess water and gently sponged his face, neck and wrists. "This will help cool you down some." Completing her task, Sarabeth smiled at him, "There. Try to rest, Charles."

A brief knock was heard on the door to his tent.

"How can I rest? Everyone keeps dropping in to annoy me," he grumbled.

Colonel Potter entered the surgeons' tent. He was followed by the Australian officers, Davidson and Cochlan. "MacAllister, the captain has something he would like to say to you."

"Yes, sir," with a perplexed frown, she stood at attention before the men. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question to Cochlan. To her annoyance, he merely grinned at her expression.

"…And, it is a great privilege, as well a great pleasure to present you with this _Commendation of Bravery_ medal for your meritorious actions on October 2nd, Lieutenant. On behalf of Her Majesty's Army, I thank you."

The officer started to attach the medal to the woman's shirt pocket. Hesitating because of the location, he pinned it on her shirt collar, instead.

"I thank you, sir, for this honor," was the softly drawled response from the red haired nurse.

Davidson added, "And, speaking for myself, and for my men; thank you for the beef you sent earlier…and for these." He displayed his new pair of leather gloves. "No frozen fingers with these."

"And, I have one more kudo to give out," Colonel Potter announced. He removed a small box from his jacket, "Winchester, this arrived today. It's your Purple Heart for the injuries you received during the mortar attack last month."

A series of sneezes and snuffles was the only response the man was able to give.

Shaking his head, the colonel gave the box to MacAllister. "Give this to 'Doctors Grumpy and Sneezy' later. Gentlemen, let's get out of here before we start sounding like that."

"Y'all be careful out there," Sarabeth instructed the visiting military men, "and stay warm."

* * *

"Some water, please," keeping his eyes closed against the light, Major Winchester spoke hoarsely.

"Yes, sir," the nurse on duty answered. With a glass in her hand, she helped the man to sit upright. She looked at her watch. "I'm glad you're awake. It's time to check your temperature and blood pressure, again."

"It is also time to take a trip outside," he answered. "All of those forced fluids are having their desired effect." Major Winchester slowly moved to the edge of his cot. "And so, if you will hand me my robe and slippers..."

"Not so fast, mister," Lieutenant MacAllister responded. "You have a bad cold and you should not be participating in the 50 yard latrine dash across the compound in sub arctic weather."

"Not to worry, my dear. I shall wear the thick bathrobe Honoria sent me as well as my eider down parka. I will certainly be warm enough."

"Sorry," the nurse replied in a no-nonsense tone. "Latrine visitation is not listed on my medical orders. You'll have to use the Army's version of indoor plumbing," she gestured to the urinal underneath his bed.

"That is unnecessary. I will only be gone for a few minutes."

"You are not leaving this tent," she said. "If you don't want to use that; okay. I can catheterize you, you know," MacAllister gave him a wicked grin.

The man replied with haughty defiance, "_Not_ while I'm still conscious! Now, hand me my robe and slippers!" He ordered.

"Do I have to sedate you?" the lieutenant asked and arched an eyebrow at him in warning.

"You are extremely determined, aren't you?" he stared at her with equal resolve.

"That comes from rubbing elbows with stubborn Yankees."

"Who get annoyed at hard-headed Texans!" Charles Winchester winced and rubbed his forehead, "This argument is giving me a headache. Sarabeth, I propose a compromise. I shall remain inside the tent---if you will leave."

The woman grinned, "Some compromise. However, your water pitcher is empty. And I need to see if the mess sergeant remembered to heat some more beef broth for you." Her smile faded and she became business-like again, "You do understand that I am responsible for recording fluid output as well as fluid intake?"

"Understood. And so you shall. Now...shoo."

Sarabeth laughed. She reached for her stethoscope, "All right. I'll_ shoo_. I get to take care of my business first, however. You know how irritable doctors get when vitals aren't taken on time," she said as she placed the blood pressure cuff on his arm.

"I know how irritable _this_ doctor is going to get if you take your time," he retorted wryly.

* * *

"Thanks for the escort, Sergeant," Lieutenant MacAllister spoke to the man who had accompanied her back to the surgeons' tent. She was shivering, despite her warm clothes.

Once inside, setting the pitcher on the desk, MacAllister stood near the heater for warmth. Shaking her hair out of its covering, she looked at her patient with an arched eyebrow. Wordlessly, he pointed to the container near the door. The nurse grinned.

Winchester waited until she finished her record keeping before he spoke to her, "Sarabeth, please sit down." He patted the chair beside to his bed. With a smile, the woman sat next to him. "I apologize, my dear. I realize that I am a far better doctor than I am a patient."

"That's for sure and for certain!" Her smile softened her words. "And I apologize also, Charles. I'm concerned about you. And I don't like my patients trying to walk out on me."

"Believe me; I am in no shape to walk out of here. Crawl, maybe…but not walk," the man confessed with a weak grin.


	40. 40

FORTY

* * *

Dec. 25th: 0830 hours

With excited chatter, the members of the 4077th began filing into the mess tent. It was finally Christmas! A day of hope, peace, good will and…presents. The small tree that had been decorated for the orphan's party was still standing in the corner. It was almost invisible behind all of the gifts that were piled around it. People moved around it, calling out remarks as they recognized names on some of the packages. A bowl of eggnog was sitting next to the coffee urn. The table was covered with tins of cookies, cakes and other care package treats sent from home. There were plenty of smiles on tired faces, as well.

Waiting for the last of the MASH personnel to arrive, Hawkeye Pierce took the opportunity to speak to the crowd. He stood on a bench and announced, "I suppose you all are wondering as to the real reason I brought you here, today."

"You're going to reveal the identity of the murderer," B J suggested with a smile of his own.

"Not this time; my faithful, but wrong, companion. Today is the reading of Uncle Wilbur's will. I bet he left me his mansion. I was his favorite, you know. Of course, I don't know how I'll be able to give all this up," Pierce gestured at the canvas tent surrounding them.

"Don't move into that mansion just yet, Reginald," Sarabeth warned with a laugh. "Uncle Wilbur never forgave you for Fluffy."

"Who's Fluffy?" Max Klinger asked.

"Uncle Wilbur's cat," MacAllister explained. "The one Reginald ran over. Remember, big brother?"

"Well, you know how he mumbles, Regina," Hawkeye shrugged. He seized the opportunity she was presenting, "I misunderstood him. I thought he said he wanted _flat-cats_ for breakfast. Not flap-jacks."

"I bet you served them with a side order of _hash hounds_, didn't you?" B J quipped.

"And _cat_-sup?" Colonel Potter offered with a grin.

"No, I think the cat's down," Corporal Klinger added to their hilarity.

"I bet the _fur _really flew when your uncle found out," B J contributed.

Laughing, Sarabeth responded, "Oh, it did. It was a very _cat_-astrophic event."

"Well, that was certainly _cat_-thartic," Father Mulcahy announced. He had arrived with another box of gifts that he placed beside the tree. "My friends," he addressed the crowd, "I want to thank you for making yesterday's party such a success. I know that most of you came directly from the operating room and were already tired. However, to see the faces of the children light up when the presents were given out---and to see them play, and to hear them laugh, meant so much to me! And to them. Thank you! Thank you all, very much."

"We should be thanking you, Padre," Colonel Potter countered. "It was wonderful to hear children laughing again."

"It certainly did wonders for my morale," Hawkeye Pierce agreed. "Now, if I could only convince some nurse to work on the rest of me. How about it, ladies? Any takers?" He asked the nursing staff. The responses were not favorable.

"Now, now," Hawkeye reminded them. "If you want any presents, you have to be good to Santa's Helper."

"Speaking of Santa," a red headed woman called to the surgeon, "Don't you reckon it's time he made his appearance?" She hinted.

"Right. I'll go see what's keeping him," Pierce helped himself to another cup of eggnog before he and B J Hunnicutt left the mess tent.

* * *

A few minutes later, a commotion at the door made them turn to see who was entering. A tall, odd-looking man in a red-dyed lab coat and a white-cotton ball beard walked in. He was carrying a bulging duffel bag. He looked suspiciously like B J Hunnicutt. He was followed by a dark-haired man with a green pointed cap and bells on his combat boots. He looked very much like Hawkeye Pierce.

When everyone finally quit laughing, the man who called himself St. Nick spoke to the people inside the tent, "Merry Christmas, boys and girls in funny green uniforms! I understand all of you have been very good this year."

"Oh, they have," the camp priest assured the visitor. "These are very good children; sometimes."

The people, enjoying the fun, laughed and began clamoring for their gifts. St. Nick adjusted his slipping belly and continued, "Because you have been so good and have worked _so_ hard, I have a treat for each of you. My helper, Hawk Elf, will give out the presents. However, I don't want anyone to open them until everyone has a gift. Understand?"

"Sure thing, Santa," Colonel Potter answered. "But your helper seems to have his hands full, already."

Santa's Helper was observed with his arms around a shapely nurse. Seeing everyone staring at him, he held up a spray of shrubbery, "Look. I found some Korean mistletoe. It seems a shame to waste it."

"Looks more like poison ivy to me," Margaret Houlihan retorted.

"Oh, Hawk Elf," St. Nick called, "Leave Nurse Sandra Smith alone and come over here."

"In other words, get your _Sandy Claws_ off her," Sarabeth MacAllister called out. She dodged the things that were thrown at her.

After all of the presents in the duffel bag were delivered, the white-whiskered gentleman explained their origins, "These gifts are from the camp personnel to the camp personnel. Each of us has one gift that is not---I repeat, not---olive drab. It's not even Army issued!"

Everyone cheered in response.

"So, on the count of three, let's open our presents together. One. Two..."

He was interrupted by the sound of tearing paper and excited cries. Displaying a colorful pair of argyle socks, a set of ear muffs, a cap or a muffler, the people began modeling their new fashion accessories.

"Good work," Potter spoke to the organizers of the party. "You must have purchased every winter item from here to Tokyo. Or were they purloined?" He asked with a grin.

"You probably don't want to know," Corporal Klinger advised. "Although, I must admit most of these came from the big-in-generosity, small-in-size-town known as Big Oak."

"What did you do?" The colonel asked the woman, "Ask everyone in your home town to send something?"

The Texas grinned, "Something like that, sir. I'm just glad the roads were finally cleared for travel. These have been sitting in the warehouse in Kimpo for days. We were fixing to hire a farmer to haul them here with his ox cart."

Gesturing for silence, Father Mulcahy spoke again, "And now, my dear friends. We have a special surprise for you. Lieutenant MacAllister will explain," he motioned for the woman to stand beside him.

Smiling happily at them, she addressed the group with her familiar drawl, "Back in October, Father Mulcahy asked Klinger and me to help him with a project. He wanted to contact each of your families and ask them to send something that would remind y'all of better times back home. I was glad to help...because I wanted to show my appreciation to the people here."

"So, we have been corresponding with your kinfolk over the past two months. We've asked them to send some little something that was special to y'all...as a morale booster. The response has been overwhelming. We've been receiving lots of packages. And, during all of this, with only a few near-disasters, we've even managed to keep these plans a secret."

"I _knew_ I recognized my dad's handwriting on that package," Captain Pierce interrupted. "But when I finished being side-tracked by that crafty company clerk, it was gone. And no one knew anything about it."

MacAllister grinned at him, "Fancy that. Anyway, what we would like to do; is to have each person come up and open his or her gift---and explain its significance. Of course, if y'all don't want to open it in front of us, or tell us the story behind it---that's okay, too. However, some of the things we've received are so strange! And I have to admit that I'm very curious as to why they sent what they sent!"

"So, Santa, if you will grab a present and start calling out the names, we'll get on with Mulcahy's Morale Maintainer."

"No time like the present to hand out presents," Hunnicutt remarked as he reached for the closest package, "And the winner is...Kellye Tanakhamara."

Amidst the applause, the nurse came forward to claim her gift. She eagerly opened the small box. She gasped and carefully lifted the item---a lava rock---to display to her friends. With tears in her eyes, she tried to speak.

Sarabeth walked over and put her arm around her. "Remember, you don't have to tell us, if you don't want to. This is supposed to make you happy. Not unhappy," she told her softly.

Kellye shook her head, "I am happy! This just means _so_ much to me!" She wiped her eyes and smiled. Holding onto her piece of lava securely, she began her story, "About four days before my father went into the hospital for the last time, he took my little brother and me for a walk," the woman explained.

"We walked along the beach. We had to stop often because he was so weak. Every time we rested, he would tell us some of the old sea legends. We walked along the forest trails, too. And he recited all the animal and creation stories, as well."

"He gave us each a piece of lava; and told us...that these were magical rocks that kept memories alive. And that as long as we kept them, and remembered this day, he would never be too far away from us."

"I carried mine with me for years. But when I was assigned here, I left my rock back in Honolulu because...I didn't know what to expect from this place. And, once I got here, I didn't send for it because...I wanted to keep it safe from this place. But, seeing it now," the woman was smiling through her tears, "I realize that not even this horrible place can take away my favorite memories."

"Thank you, Sarabeth. Thank you, Father Mulcahy. Thank you very much!" She hugged both of them and grasped her treasure tightly, "This is _the_ best Christmas present I could ever get!"

"...And the next present goes to...Igor Stimenski." B J announced.

"…Roy Goldman, come claim your prize."

"…This teeny-tiny box belongs to Margaret Houlihan."

As each present was opened, Lieutenant Parnelli's expression changed from eager anticipation to bitter disappointment. She should have known. Eyes filling with unexpected tears, turning to leave the mess tent, the woman missed her name being called.

Gently catching her arm, MacAllister asked, "Monica, don't you want your gift?"

"My gift?" She asked in confusion.

"Well, it's a letter, actually," the priest confessed as he brought the envelope over to the nurse. "It's from a Michael Joseph Parnelli, in Smithville, North Dakota."

"Michael Joseph? That's my brother's name. But I haven't heard from him since they sent us to different foster homes.…" She reached for the envelope to read the name for herself. "You located my brother?" Parnelli asked the clergyman in disbelief.

"Thanks to some very good detective work from Corporal Klinger, Lieutenant MacAllister and practically every priest in South Philadelphia," Mulcahy replied. "Oh, and, Colonel MacAllister helped us, as well."

"Colonel MacAllister, too?"

"Yes," a red-haired Texan replied, "my brother instructed us in the best ways to track down the family who took in your brother." She had only a hint of reproof in her drawl.

Then, with a smile, she changed the subject, "So, are you going to open it?"

"Yes. But not here. Is that all right?" Parnelli asked.

"Of course it's all right, my child," Mulcahy assured her.

Moving towards a corner of the tent, stroking the letter affectionately, Monica Parnelli sat on a bench. For the first time, in a long time, she looked happy.

* * *

No one noticed as Lieutenant MacAllister buttoned up her coat, picked up two packages that had been placed to one side and slipped out of the door. Accompanied by her armed escort, she stopped by her quarters first. Exiting it, with more packages in her arms, she made visits to some of the tents, leaving a gift behind in each one. Her final destination was the Swamp.

* * *

The gift distribution resumed.

"…Jeanette Thompson. Uh oh, I hope yours was supposed to rattle."

"…Here's one for Luther Rizzo."

"…This good smelling one is for Linda Hernandez."

"…Hey, here's another one for Monica Parnelli. This one feels like a shirt or something."

…Christie Baker's our next lucky recipient."

"…And here are two packages for our uns-_elf_-ish Hawkeye Pierce. How did you get so lucky?"

"I'm really identical twins," the surgeon answered. He quickly tore into his presents, "This is so exciting!" Pierce began to laugh when he saw the contents. From one box, he pulled a battered tobacco can stuffed with tangled fishing lines and lures. From the other, he pulled a plug of tobacco.

"What kind of fish are you after, Hawkeye?" B J asked. "_Smoked_ salmon?"

"My dad is reminding me of the time my friends, Toby and Dickey, and I decided to try some chewing tobacco. We went to the drugstore, paid for it with the pennies we had managed to scrape together and told Old Man Balanger that it was for my dad. But before we could try any of it, my dad caught us."

"He didn't yell at us or anything. He just cut us all a thick slice of it and told us to enjoy ourselves. And he sat there and watched us."

Colonel Potter was grinning, "And then what happened?"

"After awhile, my dad told us to swallow some of the juice." Those in the tent who knew from experience what happened next groaned in sympathy. Hawkeye was laughing as he tried to explain, "All of us turned green! We were _so_ sick! And we stayed queasy for days."

"One good thing came out of that experience, however," the doctor held up the can. "I got a great tackle box that I could carry in my pocket."

St. Nick continued to call out the names on the packages. Some of the explanations for the gifts were even more unbelievable than the gifts themselves. The laughter, and sometimes the tears, filled the mess tent.


	41. 41

FORTY ONE

* * *

Dec. 25th: 1300 hours

_My dear Honoria,_

_Happy Christmas! It seems strange not to be saying that to you in person on this day. This separation weighs heavily on me. And I miss you, and Mother, and even Father, very much._

_It has been a while since I've been able to write to you. We have been so busy for several days, that I have hardly had time to rest; let alone compose a letter. Therefore, I have a variety of topics to cover._

_First of all, thank you for the warm bathrobe. It is a very thoughtful and very appropriate gift. I am wearing it now---to keep away the frigid air that insists on blowing through the canvas walls of the Swamp. _

_Thank you, also, for sending the boxes of candy. Despite numerous obstacles, I did manage to uphold the Winchester Christmas tradition by delivering our donation to the less fortunate. That contribution did not proceed as planned, however. _

_Instead of the confections being given to the orphans; they were sold on the black market. I was livid when I discovered what had happened! Until I discovered that the money was used to purchase enough rice to feed the children for a month---a more appropriate gift than three boxes of candy, I must admit._

_Two days ago, we were caught in the middle of a crossfire. Fortunately, the mortars did not land in the camp---this time. It was not safe to remain in the area, however. So we moved to a nearby cave. _

_While we were unloading the litters, I remembered that Pierce is deathly afraid of __closed-in spaces. As much as I dislike him, I must admit that he handled himself well. He managed to keep his composure until after all of the wounded men were treated. Then, in a cold sweat, and with terror evident on his face, he ran to the entrance of the cave and remained outside._

_Sarabeth went out to sit with him. I found it difficult to concentrate on my rounds while she was out there. As soon as my shift was over, I went outside, as well. I brought her some lukewarm soup the mess sergeant had managed to prepare. I was hoping I could convince her to come back inside where it was safer. I didn't expect her to agree to that, however. She seems to know when someone needs comforting. And it was Pierce's turn. _

_Since she would not leave him, I was not willing to leave her, either. We shared the cup of soup and we talked to pass the time. The whole idea is rather absurd...the three of us, sitting on the cold dirt, wearing our steel helmets and field jackets, listening to the artillery shells explode nearby...all the while discussing everyday, mundane topics. _

_Although all three of us were exposed to the harsh winter elements, Pierce and Sarabeth do not have a sniffle between them. I, of course, have been bedridden since yesterday with a wretched cold. And, despite my protests, Pierce has assigned a ward nurse to watch over me._

_Yesterday, Colonel Potter delivered my Purple Heart medal. I requested it for the injuries I received last month during the shelling of our hospital. My knee still gives me problems, some times. I suppose it always will. As if I needed a reminder of this horrid place._

_I am feeling somewhat better, today. And, even better for me, Sarabeth took over the shift for Lieutenant Campbell so that she might participate in the Christmas party occurring in the mess tent. _

_I was asleep when she arrived. Later, when I awoke, I noticed her staring off into the distance. Judging from her expression, she was miles---probably years---away from Korea. Hearing my movements, she instantly returned to duty. "Caught me," she admitted. She said she was thinking about all the past holidays; and how much love and laughter her family had shared over the years; and how this Christmas was so different from the ones she was used to. _

_And then, changing topics, she asked me if I was ready to open my presents._ _My first one was a knit scarf; a very fine, woven one that is now wrapped around my neck. _

_I asked her to open her gift. She was surprised to see that wonderfully embroidered robe that I wrote to you about previously. She tried it on. Standing there in that off-white kimono with varying shades of green ocean waves leaping upward, she looked like Venus emerging from the ocean._

_Her wonderful hair was brushing against her shoulders. And her happy smile was touching my heart. She was so beautiful...that I was stunned. I found myself unable to speak for a moment. Even when I was able to speak, I still couldn't provide exactly the right words to tell her how truly dazzling she was._

_She made the comment that she hoped the rats wouldn't chew on the robe. Teasing her, I suggested that perhaps she could teach her canine to catch the rodents. Laughing, he replied that the only thing Ernie was likely to catch was a nap._

_Speaking of the cat-napping dog, he_ _scratched at my door earlier. He was shivering and looking so pitiful that I told Campbell to allow him to come inside. And, I will admit, I encouraged him to hop onto Pierce's cot. He is still sleeping peacefully in that very spot. I'm hoping the pup won't acquire too many of Pierce's parasites._

_My favorite Texan's gift to me was a set of three, small, carved ivory sailing ships. There are such exquisite details in those carvings! I had admired them in one of the shops we visited. I wasn't aware that she had purchased them; however, I am glad that she did. _

_That same shop was where she found the figurine of the father and child for Hunnicutt. I think he will be very pleased with that present. She also found a pen and ink drawing of a ship in a stormy sea with a lighthouse beacon shining in the distance. She claimed that it was perfect for Pierce. I told her that he would probably rather have a subscription to some nudist magazine. But she said that he needed the promise of a safe haven. I'm not certain what she meant by that. _

_Sarabeth hesitated to give me my last gift. She said that Mulcahy had intended it as a morale booster but she wasn't certain if I should open it right now. She also said that you had instructed us to never mention it to either of our parents; and that I was to treat it very gently because it was only one in existence._

_Filled with both curiosity, and a strange sense of dread, I_ _removed the lid to that box. My hands trembled when I saw that photograph of the three of us. I showed it to Sarabeth and explained that it was taken right before Timothy died…possibly even that same day. I do seem to remember our housekeeper taking a picture of us before we went ice skating on that terrible day._

_Sarabeth listened as I told her how we were playing 'crack the whip'; and how the two of you had been slung further out onto the pond; and how you both fell through the ice; and how I managed to pull you out; and how I tried but I couldn't…I couldn't reach him._

_I nearly lost my composure at that point. But that dear, sweet lady was there for me. She held my hand and talked to me. I don't remember all of what she said but I do know that her presence and her touch were comforting to me._

_The things I do remember her saying was that the pain and sadness would never completely go away but the happy memories, the good times, were what I had to focus on. She also reminded me about the incident I had once told her about---when we were sledding and had fallen off the sled and had rolled down to the bottom of the hill, laughing the entire way. Those were the kind of things she said I had to remember._

_I am surprised that photograph still exists. After his passing, you know how Father gathered up everything of Timothy's; all his clothes, his toys, and every picture that he could find; and threw them all away. I wonder how you managed to hide this one from him all these years. I am grateful that you did. And, I am pleased you sent it to me. _

_I am also very glad that Sarabeth was here to share it with me. It is ironic that I can share something with her that haunts my very soul; and yet, I can not express my feelings for her. I have told her how much I value her friendship. But, I can not tell her that I care for her._

_And now, it is another opportunity lost. Her shift has ended. She said she had to work on some reports but that she wished she could stay with me. So do I._

_Lieutenant Parnelli has taken her place. She is reading some letter over and over again. _

_I have more I want to tell you. However, I am growing tired. I'll write again soon. Happy Christmas! My thoughts are with you today...even if I can not be there. _

_Love, _

_Charles_


	42. 42

FORTY TWO

* * *

Dec 26th: 0930 hours 

The day after Christmas began as a relatively peaceful one at the 4077th. Thanks to the suggestion from a couple of British officers who had stopped by the previous day to deliver some gasoline for the generators, Colonel Potter had announced that the outfit would be celebrating Boxing Day. It was an English tradition, where classes of people switched positions for the day; in the Army's case, officers and enlisted men traded roles.

'Colonel' Maxwell Klinger posted a revised duty roster and the reversal in responsibilities began. The company clerk, Sherman Potter, was assigned the task of typing the weekly reports. Hawkeye Pierce, their newest orderly, was given the chore of changing sheets and bed pans. Officers Mulcahy, Hunnicutt and Houlihan were busy with their new duties, as well.

Even Charles Winchester, released from the sick list for half a day, was included in the rearrangement of duties. Thinking perhaps, that he would be able to teach the mess sergeant how to actually prepare an edible meal, he found himself serving oatmeal and scrubbing pots, instead. He was not enjoying Boxing Day.

* * *

The only officer not participating in the role reversal was the second-in-command charge nurse. She had so many reports for I-Corps that needed to be completed, that Colonel Potter had exempted her from the proceedings. 

In the medical storeroom, she was sitting at her desk, with surgical records and patient charts in stacks everywhere around it, when 'Corpsman' Pierce located her. Taking a break, he was telling her about his day so far, "…And, 'Major' Kellye is so picky. She expects the beds to be made just right. What difference does it make? A sheet is a sheet, right? It still smells like Army laundry—no matter how you fold it."

"Can you bounce a quarter off of a bed after you make it?" Sarabeth MacAllister asked.

"No. Not even a dime," Pierce remarked.

"Then the corners aren't tight enough," the nurse replied with a grin. "You're going to have to do it over again."

"That's what she said," the man admitted with a smile. He continued with his accountings. Stopping when he noticed her frown, he asked if something was wrong. When the Texan didn't answer, he called her name, "Sarabeth?"

MacAllister startled and looked at the doctor apologetically, "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Is something wrong?" He asked in concern.

"I'm all right. But something has happened. Crockett is absolutely _furious _about something! His anger is burning a hole in me, right here," she tapped her chest, "Something is really bothering him!"

"How can you read his thoughts like that?" Hawkeye questioned.

The Texan shook her head, "I can't read anybody's thoughts. But I can pick up _very_ strong emotions from my brothers; like when they're sad or scared or happy. Right now, I don't know what the matter is. I just **_know_** that Crockett is very, very angry about something." She shrugged. She couldn't offer a better explanation. "I don't reckon this is going to turn out to be a good day," she added in warning.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Sarabeth MacAllister was called to the commander's office. 

'Colonel' Klinger gave the phone to the woman, "It's for _Yellow Rose_," he announced. He moved away from the desk to continue his proof reading of 'Corporal' Potter's latest effort.

After giving her own counter codes, the Texan wrote down the information that was being dictated to her. "Message understood," she said, "Out." The lieutenant turned to the men standing near the filing cabinet, "Colonel?"

Both Maxwell Klinger and Sherman Potter looked in her direction and answered, "Yes?"

Despite her growing sense of apprehension, she had to smile at the response from the two of them. "It's for you," she handed the paper to the older man.

As he read the message, Potter knew he didn't need to have it translated. The note stated: "_Very sharp eyes needed now. You must keep your mares in the corral. Be ready to move the whole herd._"

"Looks like things are heating up," the colonel observed. "Klinger, tell Rizzo that I want every vehicle in this camp fueled, supplied and ready to roll. MacAllister, notify all the senior officers that I'm holding an emergency staff meeting, right now. I'll call HQ and see if I can get some additional information." He issued his orders and was already reaching for the communication handset.

Boxing Day was officially over.

* * *

"…All HQ will tell us is that we can expect heavy fighting in this area sometime soon," Colonel Potter was explaining. "They said they will call if they feel it is necessary for us to leave. In the meantime, I want everyone to prepare for a rapid evacuation. And, I want everyone, especially the nurses, to stay close to the hospital building or the mess tent." 

"If," the man continued, "we receive the word to 'bug-out', the three patients we have in post-op, and our nurses, will leave on the ambulance bus. The rest of the camp will remain behind to pack up everything we can; then, we'll be leaving, as well. We'll set up a new hospital site somewhere further south, between here and the 425th Evac. Hospital."

"Now, we all know how fast rumors fly around here," Potter added. "It is up to all of you to keep panic down to manageable levels."

"So who's going to keep my panic manageable?" Hawkeye Pierce asked.

* * *

"…And, if we are ordered to leave, everyone has five minutes to pack all of the personal belongings you can get into one satchel," the charge nurse was explaining to her staff. "Five minutes; one satchel. After that, we load the patients on the bus and we leave. Do I make myself clear?"

* * *

"Shouldn't we be circling the wagons or something?" B J Hunnicutt asked his tent mates. The three surgeons were sorting through their possessions, readying themselves for a quick exit from the area.

"Or, at least, falling off the wagon," Hawkeye Pierce commented. "I need a drink. Anyone care to join me?"

* * *

As the morning progressed, more and more concerned faces were turned towards the countryside around the hospital compound. It was one thing to hear artillery barrages in the distance. It was quite another thing to hear the chatter of machine gunfire and the eruption of exploding grenades in the nearby hills. It was even more unsettling to realize they were getting louder and coming closer.

* * *

Inside the mess tent, Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt had tried to a game of charades. Father Mulcahy's attempt to lead a sing-along failed for the same reason; the camp personnel were more interested in the war noises that were moving their way.

* * *

Inside his office, Colonel Potter hung up the phone. The people at Regimental were still telling him to 'sit tight'; and that 'every thing was going according to plan'. He had been in too many battles to believe that. His instincts and the hairs rising up on the back of his neck were telling him otherwise.

He was about to call for Klinger to bring him some more coffee, when the phone rang. Snatching up the handset, he listened to the man's voice on the other end: "_This is an emergency message for Clay or Yellow Rose. Scalping parties heading your way; move your mares south to a new pasture…NOW. You need to move the whole herd; but get your mares to safety, immediately._"

After acknowledging the information and disconnecting, Colonel Potter collected his thoughts for a moment. HQ had ordered him to stay put. MacAllister's man had told him to leave. Without any hesitation, the old soldier knew what he was going to do.

The 4077th MASH personnel packed up and left.


	43. 43

FORTY THREE

* * *

After the patients on their stretchers, most of the nurses and their belongings, and every box of surgical supplies that could be crammed onto on the ambulance bus were loaded, Colonel Potter called Houlihan and MacAllister to one side. Even though he was sending a couple of armed guards with them, he offered the women a pair of service revolvers. "I can't order you to use these or even wear them," the commander informed them, "But I would like for you to take them with you."

Wordlessly, the women fastened the weapon belts to their waists. Seeing the fierce determination on the faces of his charge nurses, Potter grinned. They could bust him down to Private for arming non-combatants, but he was feeling better about their chances, already.

* * *

He was less confident about the men's chances after the bus left. Everyone was hastily loading medical and camp equipment onto the trucks and jeeps, taking down and packing away most of the tents, and spending a great deal of time looking, anxiously, over their shoulders. Judging from the sounds echoing around the countryside, the battle was definitely moving in their direction.

Even Ernie, who had barked excitedly when the ambulance bus was pulling out of the compound, was now whimpering while waiting in the back of Potter's jeep. He was not the only one who was ready to leave the area.

* * *

Three hours later, arriving in the dark, the convoy from the 4077th reached its designated location. Their new hospital site was an abandoned monastery that still had its roof intact. Using hand-held lights; the women had already started setting up the treatment areas. It was hard to tell what made them happier; seeing the men arrive or having the generator hooked up and producing electricity.

By midnight, Klinger radioed in their new location and announced they were open for business.

By three a.m., the first ambulance from a battle aid station arrived.

By noon, rumors were rampant; a whole battalion of Chinese troops had swept through the area killing everyone in their path; hundreds of paratroopers were expected any time; a whole hospital unit had been captured; three Red Cross workers had been killed; no, it was two nuns; no, it was that female Swedish doctor; and the men with her had been hacked to pieces.

* * *

Hoping to quell some of the gossip, Colonel Potter had called Regimental again. Once he had finished with his conversation, he called a senior staff meeting. HQ wasn't giving out much information, except that even more casualties were expected; and, that two English nurses, from a nearby outfit, had been confirmed as missing.

"Have they been captured, sir?" Major Houlihan asked softly, with obvious concern in her voice.

"Right now, all we know is that they are missing," the colonel replied. "Rather than take any chances, however, HQ has ordered all female personnel in this sector to be sent further south. Houlihan, you and your nurses, are now assigned to the 425th Evac. Hospital. You will remain there until further notice."

The head nurse protested, "Colonel, with even more wounded coming in, you are going to need us here."

"Major," the commanding officer held up his hand to stop her objections, "I'm the first one to admit that you and your nurses are indispensable. But HQ is not willing for the women to be placed in danger. And neither am I."

"But, it is okay for the rest of us to get our butts shot off," Captain Pierce griped.

* * *

Once again, the women of the 4077th MASH medical unit packed up and left their male counterparts behind. 


	44. 44

FORTY FOUR

* * *

Jan. 3rd, 1953: 0600 hours

Corporal Klinger was smiling as he hurried towards the surgeons' tent. He knew some officers who were going to be very glad to hear his news. The rest of the medical outfit personnel would be happy, too.

Inside the Swamp, he stood by the heater and rubbed his arms to warm them, "Rise and shine, you sleepy surgeons," he called to the men while he switched on the light in the tent.

"Hey, Beej," Hawkeye said sleepily. "I thought you left a wake-up call for half past noon."

"I did," B J mumbled. "Maybe I should have left a bigger tip at the desk." He turned away from the light and placed his pillow over his head, "Oh, Porter; just set my luggage down by the door. And then go away."

"Yes," Charles Winchester added from under the blankets of his own cot, "do go away, Klinger. Or I shall have you shot and stuffed."

"Talk about your trophies. Try hanging that nose on your wall," Captain Pierce remarked.

"You won't want to kill the messenger this time, Major," the corporal replied. "I bring good news to all you disheveled and disgruntled doctors."

Pierce yawned, "All right, Klinger. What is it? And this had better be good. You interrupted one of the finest lobster dinners Crabapple Cove has ever seen. And I was still on the appetizers---the Anderson twins."

"I just got off the phone to HQ. The nurses are being allowed to come back today!" The clerk reported.

"What! When?" All three men threw back their blankets and sat up in their beds.

"They're on their way, right now. They should be here in an hour or two."

"Congratulations, Corporal. You have won yourself a reprieve. That is good news!" The major announced. He pulled on his robe and removed his shaving kit and a towel from the shelf.

"Save some hot water for me, Charles." Hawkeye called to him, "I have nearly a dozen delectable, delicious, desirable damsels to dazzle."

"Degenerate," Winchester muttered as he walked out the door.

* * *

At their new location, the four surgeons, and the rest of the 4077th staff, had taken care of all the wounded soldiers, and civilians, who had been brought to them---without the benefit of assistance from the nurses. The male members of the outfit had been quick to realize just how much they had depended on their female counterparts.

Just yesterday, the men had been ordered back to their original location. They had stared in dismay at the damage that had been done to the place they reluctantly called home. The bullet holes in the tents that had been left behind and the blackened holes in the compound left by grenades were solemn reminders of the fierceness of the fighting that had occurred here.

Colonel Potter hadn't given them much time to think about their close call. He had everyone setting up the hospital facilities, patching the punctures in the canvas walls, shoveling dirt in the potholes and removing the blood stains from the wooden sidewalks.

When everything had settled down, Potter had gone to the corral to look for his four-legged mare. He had left the gate open, hoping she would be able to flee to safety. He had called her name and had been relieved to her answering whinny.

* * *

When the Army vehicle pulled into the hospital compound, it was met by a relieved, cheering group of men. After seven long days, they were overjoyed to see the familiar feminine faces. The camp mascot was dancing around eagerly, as well. As each nurse stepped down from the bus, she was given a welcoming hug and a kiss and passed along to the next man in line.

Hawkeye Pierce grabbed Sarabeth MacAllister and swung her completely around. She was laughing as she affectionately called him an idiot and insisted he set her down. With another kiss to her forehead, he handed her over to B J Hunnicutt who gave her a hug and released her with a grin.

Before anyone else had the opportunity to approach the red-haired woman, Charles Winchester reached for her, "Welcome back, my dear," he stated before he kissed her, briefly, on the cheek.

Lifting an eyebrow, surprised at his actions, she was prevented from saying anything else as Father Mulcahy embraced her in a tight hug, "Thank God, you are safe!" He exclaimed. He turned her loose and was already reaching for the next nurse in line to give her the same message.

* * *

"...That takes care of the medications for this hour," Lieutenant MacAllister reported. "Now, all we have to do is the chart updates...and then we need to try and turn this building back into a hospital," She frowned as she glanced around her, "I know they haven't had much time to unpack since they returned yesterday. But, still…." She shook her head in disbelief, "This place looks like a moving company's 'going-out-of-business' sale."

"This is pretty bad," Lieutenant Kellye admitted. The two nurses were finishing their post-op rounds. They were avoiding boxes and crates as they walked down the aisle.

"But, I'd rather be in here," the dark-haired woman continued, "Even with having patients to take care of---as well as clean up---than to be in there trying to get the OR back in order! And the way they left my pre-op area...! I'm surprised the North Koreans and the Chinese didn't hear the fit Major Houlihan threw!"

"With good cause," Sarabeth added. "It looked like a pig sty in there."

"I'm just glad I pulled post-op duty," Kellye noted.

"Me, too," the Texan grinned.

* * *

"Look at this!" Lieutenant Kellye was indignant, "Here's a can opener and a spatula packed in with the Babcock clamps and Deaver retractors! Men have no common sense!" With another disgusted shake of their heads over the sloppy habits of the men, the nurses continued their unpacking.

* * *

"Sarabeth," Kellye hesitantly asked, "you still haven't heard anything from Crockett? Or Fannin?"

"No. Sometimes, when Crockett's on an assignment, he can call or write. Sometimes he can't. This is one of the times he can't," MacAllister explained.

"So, am I worrying for nothing?"

"I wish I knew, Kellye," Sarabeth sighed. "I** _know_** they're both all right---for now. But they are involved in an _extremely_ dangerous operation. All we can do...is wait until they make contact."

"Just waiting around for news is hard."

"It is indeed," the other woman agreed.

* * *

After having listened to Major Houlihan's outraged protests, and after having appeased the head nurse as much as he was able, Colonel Potter returned to the letter he was writing:

…_I'm sorry for the interruption, Mildred dear. I just finished speaking to Margaret Houlihan. Jumping chili peppers, she was hot!_

_I have to admit, the men did leave everything in a mess. But, in our defense, we were so busy repairing the buildings and filling in the craters and then, later, treating the wounded, that we didn't keep everything in order the way it should have been done. _

_We never realized how much of the clean-up the women do. And, we doctors never considered how much we take the nurses for granted---until we had to use assistant cooks and jeep mechanics as instrument handlers._

_But, we are all accounted for and still safe. That is the best news of all._

_This war drags on and on. I will be so glad when I can come home to you. I'm looking forward to the only injuries that I have to treat are skinned knees and bruised elbows._

_I miss you. And, I love you, dear girl. Always._

_Sherm_


	45. 45

FORTY FIVE

* * *

Jan. 4th: 0730 hours

At the conclusion of the Sunday worship service, Father Mulcahy looked over his gathered flock. It had been a good sermon, he thought. Of course, he was realistic enough to know that, with the winter season still holding South Korea firmly in its grip, and with the outfit still conserving heating fuel; the mess tent was one of the warmest spots in camp. Still, he was pleased with the turnout.

As the chapel was no longer needed, the tables had been moved back to their original places and breakfast was being served.

Since she was scheduled for ward duty in an hour, anyway, and since her ankle was aching from the cold, Lieutenant MacAllister had chosen to remain in the tent after the church meeting. She and Captain Hunnicutt were now having a friendly word play competition going between them. Charles Winchester, sitting next to the woman, couldn't decide which was worse: their puns or the food on his plate.

"What was the boy after playing with his puppy all day?" B J asked the red headed woman sitting across the wooden table from him, "Two words; one point."

The Texan grinned, "That's easy; _dog tired_. What did the little girl do after playing with her kitten all day?" She asked. "Four words; one point."

"Took a_ cat nap_, obviously," Winchester commented. He looked down at his tray in resignation before sampling his meal. He grimaced and sighed.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Sarabeth MacAllister remarked, "Charles, if you aren't going to play the game with us; don't give away the punch lines. I'll give you that one, B J. I know you would have gotten it. Your turn," she said as she wrote down his score.

"Okay, what did the romantic serpent write at the end of his love letter to the cute snake? Blank-and-blank; three points."

"Whoever heard of a romantic serpent? Let me think. Romantic snake...hm-m-m," she pondered the possible answers. "Charles? Any suggestions?"

"I'm not playing the game, remember?" He informed her with a jaunty grin.

"Romantic snake..." Sarabeth laughed, "I've got it; _love and hisses_. Right?" At the man's nod, she added her points to the sheet. "That's a good one! Okay; here's yours…."

"I have a better one," Winchester interrupted, "When is this game going to be over?"

"Whenever the first person reaches 20 points or yields---whichever comes first," MacAllister replied. Unperturbed by his groan of protest, she continued, "B J, what's another name for an eye doctor who sees the future? One word, hyphenated; five points."

"Another name for an eye doctor..." Hunnicutt fidgeted with his mustache as he tried to think of the correct response.

Corporal Klinger walked into the mess tent, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the medical field. Here's your mail fresh from the mine fields," he announced as he delivered the mail that belonged to each person. Abandoning their game, both of the punsters happily accepted the letters handed to them.

As he was given his own envelope, Major Winchester remarked, "Klinger, I thank you for distracting these two. They were driving me to distraction."

"Hopefully, it's the only place we'll be driving to for awhile, sir," the company clerk said as he continued his mail delivery to the other occupants of the tent.

Accepting his own parcel as he passed by the clerk, Hawkeye Pierce arrived at the table. "Howdy, Tex," he drawled. He and the priest sat beside them. "Reckon we'll jest mosey on over and set a spell with y'all."

The woman grinned, "Only if y'all will promise to leave the Lone Star accent to me."

"I quite agree," Winchester spoke with enthusiasm, "I much prefer the original."

The new arrivals looked at their trays in distaste. "My, we are certainly…blessed, today," was Mulcahy's comment as he tasted the powdered eggs on his plate, "Perhaps some ketchup would help."

"Can't hurt it any," Without even tasting his meal, Pierce was adding salt and the nearest condiments to his selection.

"Want some advice on that food y'all are fixing to eat?" Sarabeth asked. At their acknowledgment, she added, "Don't."

"I agree with your diagnosis." Hawkeye pushed his plate away. He watched her shudder as she made herself take a bite of her food before she continued reading one of her letters. "What are you doing?" He asked. "For every bite you eat, you reward yourself with a paragraph from your letter?"

"Something like that," she smiled in answer.

* * *

"Hey, I'm an aunt, again!" The woman happily announced after opening another envelope from home.

"Congratulations," Hawkeye responded. "I didn't even know you were an _insect_."

"An insect? She looks more like a _cardinal_ to me," B J added.

"Or the Pope," Pierce countered.

"Sorry, boys. The Pope isn't redheaded," the priest informed them with a smile. "He's just _golden-crowned_."

"I shall be eternally grateful when _Pun_-day is finally over," Major Winchester shook his head at his companions.

Ignoring all their comments, Sarabeth gave them the information, "Rachel Michelle MacAllister: born on the 20th; eight pounds, ten ounces. I told Milam that this one was going to be a girl. He was sure it was going to be another boy. With three brothers, I reckon she's going to be spoiled."

"Like her aunt?" The man from Boston questioned. He looked at her facial expression before grinning and returned to his own mail.

* * *

Corporal Klinger entered the mess tent again. "Lieutenant, there's a call for you," he informed the woman. She quickly followed him out of the tent.

* * *

Standing near Colonel Potter's desk, MacAllister showed her commander the message. It simply said: "_Rio Grande has_ _gone hunting with Sabine. Letters and wills with Clay. Tell Lava and Brazos, heart always._"

With a frown, the colonel looked at the woman who nodded bleakly in confirmation.

"They are both good soldiers. They know how to take care of themselves," Potter told her. Not very reassuring words, he knew; but he couldn't offer any additional comfort. She knew the risks in war as well as he did.

"I sure hope so, sir."

* * *

Standing outside his office, while pushing her hair under her cap, she whispered to herself, "Do some _very_ careful hunting, brothers mine."

* * *

When Lieutenant MacAllister returned to the mess tent, Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt had revived the word contest.

"Sarabeth," Hawkeye called to her, "Help me out, here. Why do drama teachers make good football coaches? The clue is: because they blank-the-blank."

"I'll try not to_ fumble_ the question," the woman answered as she joined in the game.

Watching them, Major Winchester seemed to be the only one who noticed that, despite her responses, her smile never quite reached her eyes. He wondered what information she had received during that call.

* * *

Since both of them were expected to report for duty shortly, and since MacAllister needed to change back into her regular uniform, the surgeon escorted her to the tent she was once again sharing with four of the nurses.

On the way, noticing that both of them were favoring their left legs, MacAllister remarked, "It's a good thing we're not in a three-legged race, we haven't got two good legs to stand on."

"Luckily, we have not entered such a race," Charles Winchester commented. He added, quietly, "What's wrong, Sarabeth? What was said in that call that has upset you?"

"What make you think I'm upset?"

"It is quite easy to fool Pierce, since he is a fool. However, it is much more difficult to deceive me," the man replied. "Please tell me."

With a sigh, she spoke in a soft voice that could not be overheard, "Crockett told me that he and Fannin were leaving for a mission. And...he wasn't real sure they were going to make it back from this one," MacAllister's answer was subdued; her expression worried.

"Is there _any_ possible way you could have misunderstood that message?"

She shook her head, "I wish there was. Crockett even told me where to find their wills. Oh, Charles...I can't even think about...," the woman didn't finish her sentence.

"My dear," the man spoke, "I can not guarantee that every thing will be all right. However, I can promise that I'll be here for you---no matter what happens---I'll be here."

"Thank you," she tried to smile at him and then looked away, sadly. Glancing at her watch, Sarabeth shook her head in annoyance, "I've got to get a move on. I'm relieving Parnelli and I'll never hear the end of it; if I'm late."

"Yes, Parnelli would _relish_ the opportunity," Major Winchester told her. He was hoping that she would recall that particular phrase from their talk when she had first arrived at the 4077th.

Seeing the sudden sparkle in her eyes, he knew that she had, indeed, remembered that conversation. "So, can I talk about pickles and onions, now?" She asked with a grin.

"Indeed not," he told her with a smile.

* * *

Inside the post-op ward, the change of shift details had been discussed; new orders charted and carried out; and the patients were all resting comfortably.

Near one hospital bed, the priest was speaking to a young man who had requested a confessional session. When he was finished talking to the soldier, Lieutenant MacAllister came up to him, "Father Mulcahy, do you take requests from Baptists?"

"Baptist, Methodist, Orthodox Jew. I can even perform most Buddhist ceremonies, if need be." The cleric smiled at her with gentle concern, "What's the problem, my child?"

"Well, I know a couple of tall Texans who need all the prayers they can get, right now," Sarabeth stated shakily, "And, I'd appreciate some extra ones being sent their way."

"They have mine," Mulcahy replied, "And, I'll say a special prayer for them, tonight, as well."

"_Wounded! We've got wounded! Ambulances in the compound; choppers on the way," _The PA announcement made all the medical personnel grimace. Another long session of trying to save lives awaited them.

"God help us all," Father Mulcahy uttered as he hurried outside to help with the new arrivals. Needed in triage, Major Winchester and Lieutenant MacAllister followed as soon as Sherry Riggs, the nurse assigned to cover the ward, hurried into the building.

* * *

Leaving his surgical nurse to finish the muscle and skin repairs on another soldier, Colonel Potter moved to assist at B J Hunnicutt's table. Sarabeth MacAllister paused in her suturing. Standing with his back to her, noticing her uneasiness, Doctor Pierce turned and asked what was wrong.

The woman shrugged, "The patient's all right, sir. It's just that...Crockett's angry again. And, he's very determined to do something. I wish I knew what was going on." She had a distant, concerned expression on her face before straightening her shoulders and focusing her attention on the man lying on the operating table.

* * *

Jan 5th: 0300 hours

"How many more are out there?" Hawkeye Pierce asked. He was resting on top of his table while his surgical nurse, Margaret Houlihan, and his anesthetist, Jeanette Thompson, relaxed for a few minutes.

"Two more, sir," Stafford, the corpsman, answered wearily, "Maybe there won't be _another_ wave."

"I hope so. I'm getting very tired of waving," Doctor Hunnicutt commented as he removed another metal fragment from a soldier's leg. "Hey, Hawk. Did I ever tell you my rabbit joke?"

"I don't think so, Beej. Let's _hare_ it."

"I hope it's _bunny_, Hunnicutt," Colonel Potter contributed from his table, "Some of your tales are _fur_-fetched."

Sarabeth, standing beside him, commented, "I just love the way y'all _carrot _on."

"And now," Hawkeye added, "straight from the twisted bowels of Korea... it's the _Bob Hop_ Show."

"And only an eternity more to go in here," noted Major Winchester. "How's his pressure?" He asked his anesthetist.

"Holding steady, sir. 95 over..."

An anguished yelp of pain shocked the OR personnel into silence.

Dropping the instrument she was holding, Lieutenant MacAllister clutched her right shoulder and staggered.

"**_Sarabeth_**!" Winchester shouted in alarm. He started towards her and then stopped himself. As much as he wanted to, he could not leave his patient. "Pierce! Mulcahy! Someone! Help her!"

Sobbing in agony, opening her hand, expecting to see blood, the woman examined her fingertips and then stared at the people around her in bewilderment. Suddenly realizing what had happened, she gave a moan of fear.

"Oh, God!" She cried, "**_Crockett_**! Crockett's been shot!"

* * *

Part Two---Complete


End file.
